


infatuation (it blinds you)

by subchesters



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Belly Bulging, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Bottom Keith (Voltron), Come Eating, Coming Untouched, Dom Shiro (Voltron), Hunk & Keith (Voltron) Friendship, Keith & Lance (Voltron) Friendship, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Marking, Mentions of Other Voltron Paladins, Minor Allura/Lance (Voltron), Multiple Orgasms, Multiple Sex Positions, Neck Kissing, Nipple Play, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Possessive Shiro (Voltron), Praise Kink, Prostate Massage, Rimming, Shiro (Voltron) Has a Large Cock, Size Difference, Size Queen Keith (Voltron), Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 08:21:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 51,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19422133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subchesters/pseuds/subchesters
Summary: Working a shitty customer service job to help pay off your student loans becomes even more shitty when your neighbor upstairs keeps having loud sex that prevents you from sleeping.Keith is definitely not having any of it.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "[Infatuation](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eHTIQttDd10) by Ogechi, which I have resigned myself to naming fics after songs that I'm favoring at that moment.
> 
> This is my second prompt for the Sheith Prompt Bang, in which I am late and I'm super sorry, but a lot of things were going on, so I couldn't exactly work on it as much as I wanted to, but it is certainly done. 
> 
> Unfortunately, there is no art, as my artist kind of dropped off the face of the earth without warning and couldn't be contacted, but even though they didn't contribute, I hope you're doing okay and for whatever reason you had to drop out, I hope you're good. I'd like to thank my beta, [shiverslightly](https://twitter.com/shiverslightly), for working with me during these trying times and working with my dumb schedule.
> 
> I'll admit now that this fic is entirely and extremely self-indulgent, especially the porn part cause it's just me writing everything I want to read. You're also here because you know what you're about, or else you wouldn't be here.
> 
> I did kind of project onto Keith when it comes to the caffeine mention in this fic. Caffeine does the opposite for me, meaning the more caffeine I consume, the more tired I get. It's sort of ironic to be writing about a coffeeshop when it serves almost no purpose for me, except for the hot chocolate that I get whenever I go to one. It would be nice to drink coffee to wake up during long shifts, but it's just me and sheer force of will keeping me awake.
> 
> There is a small reference to racist stereotypes, but it's very minor.
> 
> There's a bit of editing that still needs to be done, but I 'm a little late with this, so I'll correct them at a later time.

There’s no grandiose beginning that is worth any real mention as to how the situation starts.

It all starts on a day that isn’t any more spectacular than any other day. It’s in this unremarkable coffee shop that’s just like every other functioning coffee shop. It’s an order of some contraption of coffee that’s sure to be almost completely sugar that makes Keith’s teeth experience a kind of phantom pain that he never knew he could experience. It’s a near convoluted order, much more than what Keith could ever assume goes into a coffee, and once it reaches more than five ingredients, it’s more or less becoming a drink of liquidated sugar with the feeling of sugar-induced heart failure over the horizon that grows ever-more closely.

Six in the morning on a Tuesday, with minced sunlight through resistant blinds with nothing between here and there that’s of importance to note happening, does Keith find himself with a propped elbow on the smooth wooden countertop he tables. It’s a day that will see Keith drooping ever more through the day, where he slowly begins to fold in half, not from old age, but from the weight of it on his shoulders with what it seems to have in store for him.

This is exactly what he wants to spend his time doing.

_Yes, I completely love what a minimum wage, part-time job in the food industry has to offer in the grand scheme of things that make up my experience as a college student. Truly magnificent. I will value what I have learned here with everything I am._

Emphasis on the sarcasm, hold the whip cream and make it almond milk.

“Hey, Keith, man, not to, like, interrupt your vibe over there or anything, but maybe I should work the register for a while?”

Keith’s eyes flit over to the owner of the voice, a barista named Hunk, brandishing an empty cup with small doodles on the side. His large, mahogany-toned hands are fumbling around with the cup and a thick, black sharpie. Hunk’s voice has that concerned tone when he believes something may go amiss, full of concern that something negative will come to fruition.

Keith isn’t sure why he feels compelled to assure the bigger man that everything is going to be okay, sure to smoothen his voice out of all the irritated wrinkles it possesses. “It’s fine, Hunk, really.”

Hunk is in the same predicament that Keith is; they’re both in dire need of money to cover expenses that aren’t covered by their scholarships. Driven by the demand of survival and acquiescing to the unsatisfying world of the customer service industry because it’s the only available option that will help ease the crushing burden of student loans. They both find themselves working these odd hours that are created to accommodate their hours as a student, and their free time is spent trying to cram as many hours of work as possible. Even the smallest amount of money means relieving tens of thousands of dollars that is currently being shoveled into their education.

However, Keith is fine working at the register.

See, the thing is, is that Hunk is, well—not that Keith wants to insult the guy because Hunk really is a great person, he is, and Keith’s never met someone who was so bound and determined to offer Keith the option of having Hunk cook for him. He offers to cover the smaller man’s shifts, going out of his way to talk to Keith when everyone else only saw the soured look he would give them but Hunk was undeterred, but if Keith’s being honest with himself, Hunk isn’t, well…

He’s not that great when it comes to dealing with situations under pressure.

It happens on a Thursday morning, with an order that is more a command with ruthless authority that’s used to not having anything disobey, that is obviously suffering from morning crankiness. The owner of that voice has decided that it would be a great idea, the grandest of all ideas that has been given to the universe, to take out that surmounting frustration and helplessness on the servers.

Namely, that person being Hunk.

The words that comes out of the customer’s mouth have a volatile tone, and Hunk clearly starts to wither under the force of it. His hands start fumbling, his voice starts to stutter, and his cheeks begin to heat as the dark-haired man tries to be graceful about it. He’s handling it as best as he can, and it’s a lot better than what many people would do before their own frustration cracks the inside of their chest and pours out, making a mess all over the floor and their shoes.

“I-is that all you’ll be ordering to—”

“I wasn’t _finished_ , you know,” is sharp and knife-edged, and successfully guts whatever Hunk had been planning to say. Keith can visibly see Hunk swallow down whatever he was going to say as the larger man fidgets at the register. His nails find the countertop interesting as they tap out an indiscernible beat, his weight shifting from one foot to the other in a parody of trying to control himself.

Keith has seen he was floundering, trying to navigate around this rude customer who thinks that they’re allowed to treat workers any which way they please, but Keith isn’t having any of it. He’s not about to stand idly by and watch this kind of character make an open season on Hunk, who definitely, in Keith’s opinion, regardless of what anyone wants to believe of Keith’s character, doesn’t deserve that kind of treatment. Especially from someone who believes they’re entitled to this kind of behavior just because they drive some fancy Rolls Royce with a watch on their wrist that is equal to half of Keith’s college debt.

It also happens to be an odd day where the asshole in people seemed to bloom in all kinds of colors, in all kinds of varieties and vivid renditions. It just so happened that Hunk was placed at the forefront of all those, taking the brunt of it.

Hunk had been very grateful for Keith’s swooping rescue, offering to bake Keith something extra special.

Hunk is a good guy, in Keith’s opinion.

He could just do without Hunk’s… friend, named Lance, that happens to tag along everywhere that Hunk happens to be outside of their job. It’s guaranteed that Lance is going to be somewhere nearby, somewhere in Hunk’s vicinity. Keith often tries to vacate the area before Lance becomes aware of Keith’s presence and having his goal center on annoying Keith for the rest of the day.

\--

It was a nice day, Keith remembers, when it was the beginning of the end. When there was sunlight leaning softly into his room with the calm scent of apple cinnamon from an electric candle that had seen better days permeating the room. 

There’s no slew of books that litter the floor, there’s no messy pile of papers that demand words and prose and some kind of thoughtful expression to create a complicated thesis that’s supposed to inspire critical thinking. Keith had a free afternoon that wasn’t burdened with homework, something that his major hasn’t allowed him the proper respite from. It’s an opportunity Keith is ready to have at any moment.

Keith only wears a large hoodie with boxers, his hair up in a high, messy ponytail that Keith knows he’s in dire need of trimming but can’t be bothered to. He’s settled into his bed with his laptop, ready to marathon competitive cooking shows on Netflix and forget the crushing pressure of what to do in life and the inevitable student loans that are going to be trailing behind his heels and biting at the soft skin.

However, his phone vibrates next to him, jarring him, and squinting at the offending technology. He’s wondering who, exactly, thinks they deserve his very limited amount of free time.

Unknown number (sent: 20:07, Fri, 24 Aug):  
_hey keith, guess who_

Keith often gets a lot of ads on his phone, he still gets a few texts related to the previous owner of his number, but this one catches his eye. Usually, Keith blocks the number and doesn’t think about it, but this number has his name and it makes Keith curious. It doesn’t have the usual, _“Hey, Rudy, cash in on your new Wal-Mart gift card! Text ‘stop’ to cancel,”_ that normally makes up most of the random texts he gets. However, this is in chat speak, which is definitely outside of the norm for telemarketing promotions.

He squints at the number, contemplating it, before he decides that maybe he can humor this number for a little while. Who knows? It could be some prank caller gearing up for their attack and testing the waters before trying to clown him.

Keith (sent: 20:12, Fri, 24 Aug):  
_??? idk who you are_

Unknown number (sent: 20:13, Fri, 24 Aug):  
_uh duh it’s lance_

Keith never knew how fast his stomach could drop. For just a moment, Keith’s entire phone is an affront to his existence, created purposefully to wedge under his skin and fester there with infection that wants to incapacitate him. Keith’s fingers are stuck in a calcified position that won’t allow him to pull away from it, and unfortunately, anchors him into this situation that has no way of being solved quickly and efficiently.

Keith has the urge to delete the conversation, block Lance’s number, and forget Lance even existed, but would it really be productive? Lance has access to him outside of technology, and would, no doubt, continue to bug Keith until he gave in? It’s more than likely Lance would seek him out and talk to him that way, and would hang around the coffee shop even more than what should constitute as a visit. If it were possible, Keith would make a call and accuse Lance of disturbing the peace in the coffee shop, sure to tell the police officer, “hey, officer, I have no idea who this man is and is clearly trespassing.”

Keith (sent: 20:16, Fri, 24 Aug):  
_how did you get this number?_

Keith (sent: 20:17, Fri, 24 Aug):  
_i didn’t even give it to you_

Unknown number (sent: 20:20, Fri, 24 Aug):  
_hunk gave it to me so now I can talk to u anytime I want_

_“Traitor,”_ is whispered into Keith’s ears. No, he corrects himself, Hunk would never do something to slight Keith’s existence, it has to be Lance’s doing. It has to be Lance trying to take advantage of his friendship with Hunk to get this information that he knows Keith would never give away.

Keith (sent: 20:21, Fri, 24 Aug):  
_why do you even need it_

Unknown number (sent: 20:23, Fri, 24 Aug):  
_cause u obv need someone of my assistance to help u out in life_

Unknown number (sent: 20:25, Fri, 24 Aug):  
_say hello to ur new wingman_

What?

Keith gives his phone an offending look.

No, this can’t be right.

Keith (sent: 20:27, Fri, 24 Aug):  
_i didn’t even know you could say words with more than 1 syllable_

Keith (sent: 20:28, Fri, 24 Aug):  
_and you’re not about to do anything cause i didn’t ask_

This is a conversation that started the downfall of his quiet time because as Keith learned, Lance likes to text him a lot, for whatever reason, about anything he thinks is of importance that pertains to Keith, even when the idea is so vague that Keith has trouble figuring out what the context is supposed to be. Lance’s number popping up in his notifications becomes a staple of his homescreen, a sight that is now forever making itself at home in his phone no matter how much Keith is unhappy about the development.

\--

There is another development within Keith’s life that bears witness to a kind of realization that Keith would like to ignore.

It’s another day where Keith is slouching behind the counter, arms folded and elbows pressed against the fixture that Keith leans his weight on, as he mentally ticks down the amount of time that is left until his shift is over. Sure, there’s another four hours that are left and Keith is aware of every minute left. It feels like it’s deliberately slowing down to spite him. The tick of a clock that’s behind Keith somewhere on the wall is glad to tell Keith of every second moving by, and Keith’s jaw tenses as he grinds his teeth together momentarily to stop thinking about the leisure way that time moves forward.

It’s currently that time of day where there’s a slump in activity, where a good majority of their customer base have classes and people with steady jobs are unable to make the commute due to the lunch rush traffic. Usually beforehand, Keith is okay with the fewer amount of people that would make their way to the counter and Keith having to mentally prepare himself for what kind of temperament he might have to deal with, but it’s during the actual slump in activity that Keith somewhat finds himself wanting that spike in customers so he doesn’t have to deal with the boredom that comes along with everything being so idle.

Keith decides that doodling on a napkin on top of the counter will help pass the time, something that has a vague idea and mostly unformed when the doorbell chimes, the creak of hinges pushed into the air around it to disrupt the amount of quiet that has settled that grab’s Keith’s attention. He doesn’t quite thank this person for the distraction but he comes close.

Before Keith can prepare the usual script of greeting a customer, his throat seems to collapse in on itself and all the air that was stored within his lungs pushes up and out his throat in this undignified sound of a near squeak that Keith will do whatever it takes to play off as something else. Violet-colored eyes are blinking, trying to clear away whatever vision his mind has concocted in order to escape the sheer amount of time that was left, but nothing disappears as the person in front of him approaches appears to be in slow motion.

In front of him stands a man that Keith wants to look over the counter to see if he’s really that tall, looking for some kind of shoes that are very tall in the heels but, oh, that would be very rude and very out of character for him.

In front of him is a man who is definitely taller than him, probably more than a foot, who is equally wider than Keith is. His arms are massive and probably thicker with muscle than Keith’s thighs, emphasized with the sleeveless, black shirt that he dons. It should be atrocious, it really should, but there is a pair of grey baggy sweatpants that pile onto the tops of some Adidas. The entire look is finished off with a snapback that has bleached bangs messily poking out to fall over a pair of black sunglasses in what is the douchiest frat boy look that Keith has ever seen but also the absolute most attractive look Keith has ever seen.

Those arms can’t be real, holy shit.

Keith’s spine definitely straightens and calcifies as he takes complete notice of the man. He notices a prosthetic that begins just above the elbow, sleek and very high tech, but it looks natural in the way it moves with the man.

The man comes to a halt at the counter, reaching a hand up to grasp at his sunglasses and pulls them off. Folding them as he reaches to place them in his pocket that Keith doesn’t want to pay attention to but god, those hands are large, with thick fingers and a wide palm that absolutely dwarfs the sunglasses. Keith finds himself looking into these ash-colored eyes that regard Keith curiously.

His spine become stiffer, if that’s at all possible.

The man looks away from him and toward the menu of drinks and other snacks as Keith does what he can to not stare so openly at the man before him, trying to keep himself in check from wanting to do something he knows he shouldn’t. This is the cause of an alarming distress that’s welling up in his throat and expanding, and the biracial man doesn’t quite know what to do with this revelation.

It takes a moment before the man looks back at him—down at Keith because of course, this man is very tall, and very muscled and very much about to make an order that Keith doesn’t want to answer to because of how his voice is being shaped within his throat. The sounds of it will unmistakably be embarrassing, and will be the end of his person.

“What would you recommend?” and, oh, that is a smooth voice, deep with a husky inflection, “I haven’t been here before and I’d like to start off right.”

_“I am very available,”_ a part of Keith’s mind answers too quickly, a part that Keith has to shove to the back. It’s a part that Keith can easily ignore, and usually does. However, there’s always those rare situations where it has more influence than he would like to admit. It causes Keith to clench his fists, digging his nails into his palms to ignore it and to provide enough of a distraction from it.

The worst part is that Keith can’t even bring himself to criticize the aesthetic that this man has chosen to wear.

“Oh, we, uh—we have some things.” Keith internally cringes, disbelieving that he’s unable to grasp his words and his tongue slipping against the letters. He turns away, momentarily unable to look the other man in the eyes, raising his hand to gesture toward the menu behind the counter that’s mostly so he has something to do with his hands. “I would recommend,” and, oh boy, Keith doesn’t really drink coffee that much because, unlike the rest of the world, Keith has this thing when it comes to caffeine: it does the exact opposite of what it’s meant for.

See, Keith has this relationship with caffeine in that it’s more of a hindrance to him because the more he consumes, the more his body desires to go to sleep. He’s looked into this, never having any kind of guidance on what this is. He’s learned that only ten percent of the population seems to suffer from this but most didn’t tell him anything other than he’s dehydrated or drinks too much sugar, or that it’s a common symptom of ADHD and he needs to seek a doctor’s advice, so he gave up that search pretty fast. In doing so, Keith doesn’t drink coffee that often unless he’s looking to go to sleep early or wants to sleep for a long time, but other than that, he doesn’t drink much coffee.

Instead, Keith pushes on, remembering the popular drinks that everyone seems to consistently order.

He’s mostly determined to not look like he doesn’t know anything. Working in a coffee shop but not knowing what to recommend people? That looks kind of bad regardless of Keith’s aversion to caffeine.

“The caramel frappuccino is pretty popular,” and so far, it’s good, “I would say the regular caramel macchiato or the chocolate mocha. We also serve black coffee for those that aren’t into the sugary drinks.”

Keith hazards a turn back to see the man looking at the menu, a dusting of a furrow in his brow and turns his head back to Keith.

“I’m just looking for something simple, none of the complicated stuff that people like to order.”

“You and me both,” is out of Keith’s mouth before he can stop himself.

It earns him a small chuckle from the other man. “Seems as though you’ve had some experience with that.”

“Don’t even get me started.” There, right behind his eyelids, is a montage of film that plays compilations of long and convoluted orders. He sees these combinations of what amounts to sugar in liquid form that Keith can feel the ghost of cavities brushing against his teeth and the phantom pain of it when he thinks of a person drinking it. There’s only so many pumps of vanilla or caramel syrup that Keith wants to execute, straining his arm to do so, before it makes him physically sick to see how much is going into the cup, knowing that someone is going to consume this creation.

The man laughs again, a soft sound that Keith doesn’t think about how much he wants to hear it again, forcibly clearing his mind and trying to stay on topic.

“I think I’ll just make it simple for you.” The man leans forward, eyes roaming the menu. “I'll order a simple, medium latte.” His face is open and easygoing as he looks at Keith. “Think you can handle it?” and that mouth curls into a deeper smile, more pronounced at the edges. “I’d like it if you tell me if it’s too much to handle.”

“Sure,” slides across Keith’s tongue before he can trap it behind his teeth, surprised by how fast he responded to the man.

Keith grasps at a large sharpie marker, trying to orient it enough to even write anything as he’s cursing these odd nerves that have been trying to influence his body. He grabs a cup, nearly dropping it in the process.

Fuck.

“And what’s your name?”

The man smiles, leaning back, a friendly expression on his open face. “People call me Shiro.”

Keith does not think about rolling his tongue along that name to figure out how well it tastes.

“Alright, Shiro it is.”

Keith thanks the small things that led to him being able to turn away from Shiro and focus something other than the stacked man that stands much taller than him. Dressed in what should be the most abhorrent fashion choices that completely deserves to be mocked and ridiculed and should not, in any way, look that good and complimenting to anyone’s form. It’s unlawful, it’s an abomination. It’s the worst kind of fashion choice by douchey fratboys that think enough alcohol makes them indestructible and bulletproof to the laws of nature, and Keith can’t believe it’s _enhancing_ this reaction Keith is having.

Since when does he let himself have such a visceral reaction to someone’s physical appearance? Since when does his libido want to take charge and let Shiro do what he wants to Keith? What those large hands could do, that mouth, those eyes that would stare back and—

He almost crushes the cup in hand but stops himself, the reaction starting to annoy him with how much his thoughts are derailing.

“You okay over there? You look a little disgruntled.”

That is enough to push those thoughts away as Keith turns back to Shiro, who is watching him with some kind of amusement that Keith can’t quite place, but it’s enough to jar him from his train of thought.

“You’re not thinking it’s too much, are you? I thought it would be small enough to not give you a headache.”

It’s uncharacteristic for Keith to think about telling Shiro his thoughts, to even think of voicing himself when usually keeps them back, but perhaps it’s that friendly, charming smile that disarms him. It makes Keith want to let all those little words he thinks about and let them see the world outside his mouth. It’s odd, not even Hunk inspires such desire to want to be upfront. Keith can’t quite put his finger on it, and more than likely, won’t think about it. He’ll leave it there to collect dust and rust over with disuse and hope for it to lose its shape and importance so it becomes easier to bury and not worry about.

“Complicated orders are some of the worst, especially depending on the time of day,” Keith brings the cup over to begin pouring warm milk into it. “The ones in the morning, where people have no patience, are some of the worst times as a small mix up can be seen as the worst offense someone could ever do to them.”

Shiro hums.

“I’m not a fan of dealing with them either, but I’m a poor college kid with student loans staring me down and no other choice.”

“You go to college?” This gets Shiro interested. “You wouldn’t happen to go to the University of Altea, would you?”

Keith turns back with Shiro’s prepared drink, setting it down on the counter. “Yeah. I’m an aeronautical engineer in my third year and this degree doesn’t come cheap. I can barely afford my apartment.”

“Oh, really? I’m a grad student in the same field,” and this leaves an absolutely delighted expression on Shiro’s face as he reaches for the drink. “Not many people are interested in that, or even know what that is when they ask what my major is. It’s nice to meet someone who shares the same interest instead of the blank or confused looks I get.”

There’s a knowing feeling of relation that sprawls in Keith’s stomach, not realizing how much relief he would feel at meeting someone else that shares his interest in everyday life, or even someone who knows what it could possibly entail.

“Maybe I could lend you my notes,” Shiro says in this kind of offhand tone. “I suspect that professor Slav is still there and giving everyone he meets the biggest headache?”

There are two reactions that Keith has, one that resonates deeply within his being and the other bringing on this kind of halt to his capacities to analyze exactly what it is.

He knows exactly how annoying and troublesome it is to listen to Slav and his theoreticals and hypotheses, and the rambling that tends to fill any gap in between. It inspires a kind of solidarity Keith feels, as well as relief at this being a shared experience and a universal thing. However, it’s with the other portion that follows up, the suggestion that Shiro is making an active contact with Keith through lending his notes to him.

First of all, Keith has no problem with extra help. He has no problem with someone coming in to talk about things he may not understand and offer their own insight on how to solve something, but it’s the idea that Keith could see Shiro even more than what would entail of their encounter currently. It’s the idea that he would see Shiro outside of his work and be in more contact with him than this friendly kind of chat. It would guarantee that Shiro would become some kind of fixture within his life and Keith isn’t sure how he should feel about it. Actually, Keith knows exactly how he would feel about it but he’s not about to spoil a potential relationship because his libido.

“Maybe I should accept them.” Or maybe not because Shiro a very attractive man that is giving Keith attention and his libido is trying to convince him to take the offer. In honesty, he would look over the notes, he would see all the things that helped Shiro pass Slav’s class, see all the annotations in the margins, maybe even a few funny doodles, but if he's being honest, a hot man is paying attention to him and he'd want more of that attention.

There’s a grin on Shiro’s face, accepting his drink before, “perhaps I will. If I see you around, you should let me know if you change your mind.”

With that, Shiro steps back, raising one of his hands to give a mock salute with his fingers as he begins to turn away. Keith can’t help but give into the desire to watch the back of Shiro’s retreating form, his eyes stuck on the way that black shirt clings to his form and the dip of Shiro’s spine and the compact, trimness of his waist—

There is a horrible cough that interrupts Keith’s train of thought and faintly, he thinks there's the sound of a crash and shattering windows and roiling tires along a road as all of it comes to a complete halt, his thoughts now jarred and less of his focus as he turns his head toward the source of it.

Oh, right, he completely forgot about Hunk.

“I was totally going to ask you something but I saw that you were a little distracted by that guy,” Hunk steps a little closer, and Keith has this dawning feeling that something is about to happen, “and I didn’t wanna exactly interrupt.”

There isn’t really a way Keith can play it off, there isn’t a way Keith can exactly frame this as anything other than a very public display of desire.

\--

Lance (sent: 22:54, Fri, 27 Sep):  
_so a little birdy told me that you  
_ _yes you_

Lance (sent: 22:55, Fri, 27 Sep):  
_were interested in a tall handsome glass of really hot coffee_

Lance (sent: 22:55, Fri, 27 Sep):  
_haha get it? hot coffee?_

Lance (sent: 23:09, Fri, 27 Sep):  
_keith you can’t hide from this forever_

Keith (sent: 23:28, Fri, 27 Sep):  
_please don’t ever talk to me again_

\--

A few nights have passed before Keith inevitably finds himself in front of his laptop on a night where there isn’t a looming class at eight in the morning the next day and can afford to stay up a little longer. Instead of utilizing that time to study or look through his notes to refresh with, he finds himself working through a late-night onset of pent up desire that has been kindling. It’s been building, slowly taking a more precedent role within his consciousness that Keith doesn’t want to go any further.

Keith has known all his life that he isn’t picky about who he finds attractive, feeling that all genders have an attractive appeal. He’s had fleeting crushes on a few girls over his lifetime. He’s been enamored with a few guys that he’s seen. He’s found appeal in non-binary people that he’s followed up a few times. He’s had flings—not quite friends, but with benefits at times. He’s even had an almost serious relationship, but Keith isn’t opposed to finding attraction in any gender.

But, within the depth of his mind, where it’s safe from prying eyes and curious fingers eager to learn everything about him, Keith will admit that he does have a type. Whether fortunately or not, Shiro hits so many of those preferences that it feels like it should be uncomfortable knowing that Shiro is the creation of his preferences in men. Shiro is tall, muscular, but he’s gentle and nice and doesn’t carry an air of condescension or narcissism that many men with Shiro’s physique do.

Which is why he finds himself on a Tuesday night with nothing important between here and then with the warmth of a low-level arousal at the bottom of his stomach which becomes a slow, pressing need that Keith can no longer ignore. He’s sitting on his bed with his laptop against his knees, open to some site he doesn’t care to know the name of, only needing a simple Google search for large, muscled guys with big cocks that he doesn’t want to think of correlating to his earlier encounter with Shiro.

He has certain tastes, he has certain moods, and Keith never knows which will take preference that day, but this time, he’s in the mood for muscles and large hands and thick thighs, and he’s not going to look any further into what that could possibly mean.

Keith is a master at being able to compartmentalize and separate the superficial from what could provide insight into his being.

While perusing the countless videos, none of them striking his interest, he notices a user that seems to pop up semi-frequently but it takes a little while for Keith to notice since it doesn’t share the same kind of eye-grabbing name all the other names seem to have.

The name _blacklion_ is definitely calm and tame compared to _thickdaddylove_ or _biguncutcocks_.

_Blacklion_ comes up every so often, a few solo videos, some featuring another person, and Keith is somewhat intrigued as he begins to gain interest that overtakes other videos with such intense names to them.

As appealing as the title “ _Daddy’s Thick Cock Pounds Eager Twink Full Cum and Makes Him Cry”_ is, that’s not the title that gets his full attention. Instead, he’s drawn to the title of “ _A Moment with Muscles”_.

It’s only sometimes that Keith doesn’t see explicit and vulgar titles to videos, so when it does happen, the other videos on the page don’t matter as it makes Keith interested to know what the video is about since the title doesn’t give him what to expect. Graphic titles usually tell Keith what he’s getting himself in to, to not expect any kind of deviations to what the title is telling him. There is a saturation of those kinds of titles, and in Keith’s opinion, too many are gleeful about telling the viewer that it’s some barely legal teenager that’s about to get fucked by some person that’s more than ten years their senior.

Keith doesn’t have any interest in those videos. He just feels too old and weird about looking at someone who’s barely eighteen and probably hasn’t made their first phone call to schedule a doctor’s appointment without their parents doing it for them. They may be an adult and they can do whatever they want, but Keith still feels like it’s on some kind of level that is wrong and uncomfortable compared to his own age, which isn’t that much older, but the thought still stands. Keith may only be twenty-two, but it’s still too weird for him to get over.

He ends up scrolling through _blacklion_ ’s videos and briefly admires the amount of dedication there is to organizing his videos into simple categories and playlists that make it easier for Keith to find what he’s looking for. He moves through the categories, looking at the thumbnails of potential videos before he settles on a solo video, just wanting to watch those large muscles flex and those powerful abdominals on display clench and tense and watch those big hands play with his big dick—

Keith clears his throat.

He adjusts his position and leans over to grasp his headphones on the nightstand next to him. He’s anticipating turning the volume up to listen to the sounds that _blacklion_ will make when he hears a thunking sound above him. It momentarily diverts his attention as he looks up at his ceiling, hearing another sound that tells of a bed scraping across the floor. Keith stares up at his ceiling for a moment longer until he’s sure it won’t happen again. Keith goes back to his video, about to slide his headphones on when he hears it again.

This time, it’s different because it sounds more like someone slamming their hand against the wall and it causes Keith to startle a little, his eyes narrowing at the ceiling, sending an accusatory look. Another bang happens and what Keith thinks he can hear is the sound of a faint voice followed by another voice. It’s sound is so feeble that Keith is unable to understand what is being said through the floor, but the sound that follows is the unmistakable thump of a bed hitting against the wall. That sound gives Keith all the context he needs.

Keith has had relationships, some more casual than others, and he knows the unmistakable sounds of people having sex.

(Though, it has been a little while since _he_ has had sex. It’s been maybe three or four months since his last, not actually a friend but with benefits arrangement with a guy named James Griffin. For all of his annoying points and inconvenient by-the-book attitude, sure knew how to expertly eat Keith out, which Keith considered that a redeeming quality.

However, James’ schedule couldn’t line up with Keith’s and it became too hard to maintain the amount of sex they were having, and both decided to break it off.

Keith won’t admit it out loud but sometimes he does miss James’ tongue; however, James definitely doesn’t need to know that.)

Normally, Keith doesn’t care what another person does and their business should be no one else’s concern—unless they’re into that—and as long as they’re not breaking any laws and it’s consensual, then there’s no need to be up in arms about it. Whatever they want to do behind closed doors, whatever they’re into, Keith doesn’t spend nights awake trying to figure it out.

However, there are some situations where Keith doesn’t think they’re appropriate.

Like letting everyone around them know that they’re having sex in the middle of the night when people are trying to go to bed.

Another thunk, the headboard of a bed colliding into the wall at a nearly steady pace, the voices above still indistinct but growing in sound enough to hear two separate voices that don’t sound like they’re trying to keep quiet. The floor mutes their voices just enough for Keith to just barely understand what they’re possibly saying, but he can guess that it’s probably not anything coherent. A look of disdain curls at the edges of Keith face as he gives the ceiling one last look before he pulls on his headphones, settling down with his laptop, and hoping that by the time he finishes, the two above him will have settled down.

\--

It turns out, they don’t finish by the time Keith takes his headphones off and cleans himself up. They don’t finish as he’s changing his sheets, shirt and boxers, and settling back into his bed, and unfortunately, the sounds start to chip at Keith’s satisfied mood.

The clock stares at him with a reminder that it is now almost twenty-three at night and the hours are dwindling down until he has to be awake, just a little over seven hours from now. As long as Keith can get at least six hours of sleep, he’s good, he can survive off that amount of sleep for the rest of the day and need maybe one minimal nap. Hopefully, they lose their steam and decide to call it quits in the next half hour. Surely, no one has that amount of stamina to keep going when it’s already been two hours since they started, so Keith is expecting them to settle down soon.

\--

They do not settle down for another hour and Keith is too tired to be upset.

\--

Hunk notices the difference in Keith’s demeanor right away when he steps foot within the coffee shop, with his hair messy, the pale of his skin a little more pronounced, dark circles under his eyes more emphasized, but thankfully, Hunk doesn’t comment on it and lets Keith be.

They go on as regular but it’s the little things that start to get to Keith, chipping away at the small fissures created by fatigue that have been embedded within the defenses of Keith’s mind. It seems to be a day of nothing but rookie mistakes, something Keith thought he would have perfected his craft enough to avoid, but with less sleep than what he’s used to, Keith seems to be making every mistake in the book. Today also seems to be the day where the nastiest customers he gets all decide to visit at once, each one possessing a shorter attitude than the previous. Those fissures become cracks as the day continues, and in turn, it makes him feel like he’s approaching that place of wanting to drop his faux niceties with people who are more than undeserving of it. Luckily, Hunk steps in, almost putting a hand on Keith’s shoulder in a show of solidarity and empathy for his situation, before he remembers that his relationship with Keith hasn’t gotten to the point where he could initiate casual touches.

“Hey, man, I got it, you look like you’re gonna fall over.”

Keith mumbles out a denial and it’s more half-hearted than what he’d normally insist but Hunk doesn’t relent.

“I can cover for a little bit while you go kick back somewhere and take a nap. Trust me, Keith, you look like you need it.” That is the nicest way anyone has tried to tell Keith that he looks like absolute garbage. “I can handle being here by myself for two or three hours, it’s fine.”

Hunk takes one look at Keith, tracing from head to toe, and watching how delayed each reaction is, every slurred response that barely amounts to understandable words, and the muted emotions that Keith can barely display, Hunk makes a decision. He decides to abandon not touching Keith, placing his hands on Keith’s shoulders and pushes Keith into the direction of the door that leads to a small break room in the back. It’s not exactly lavished with all kinds of decorations, but enough in that it has a table, a microwave, a small fridge, this worn recliner chair that has seen better days, and a couple of motivational posters on the walls. There’s even a tall fake plant in one of the corners.

Keith is definitely too tired when he doesn’t protest someone touching him without his permission.

“I’ll come wake you up in about two hours, so don’t worry about an alarm or anything.”

Hunk pushes Keith into the recliner, and if it were any other day where his mind isn’t lagging somewhere behind his ankles and struggling to keep up with the cadence he sets, he would question why there was a recliner here. He doesn’t remember ever getting a recliner chair in the break room. The smaller man wants to ask who chipped in the money to grace the room with something like this, but he’s thankful enough that it exists and doesn’t think about it any further.

Hunk orients himself and stands beside the recliner, looking down at Keith, gesturing vaguely with his hands that Keith can’t be bothered to really know what Hunk is trying to get at, but he’s lucid enough to hear, “I got the shift for the next two and a half hours. Don’t worry, I’ll also tell you if Mr. Tall and Handsome shows up.”

It’s a testament to how tired he is when the mention of Shiro doesn’t pull a reaction from him.

Hunk hovers in the doorway, looking over his shoulder and gives an enthusiastic, “Have a good nap, Keith!”

It’s not long before Keith is out.

\--

Keith’s hand blindly reaches out from under his blankets, patting down on the nightstand before Keith pulls down his blankets just enough to see where his hand is reaching. He squints, eyes still lined with sleep, trying to comprehend what’s going on and why it’s going on. His phone continues to vibrate, almost pushing itself off the stand until Keith grabs just in time to save it from a future with cracks in it.

It’s only been an hour since Keith had gotten home, and instead of doing anything that needed his attention, he had gone straight to the stash of snacks he had and picked out a monster bowl of instant beef ramen and mindlessly devoured it without any other conscious thought crossing his mind. He then dragged himself to the bathroom and barely managed to brush his teeth, his body slowly folding in half over the sink the longer he stood there, his hand gradually coming to a halt and nearly swallowing his mouthwash. He didn’t even spare a thought for flossing, nearly forgot to change his clothes before collapsing into his bed.

If he’d been in a better mindset, Keith would congratulate himself for being able to accomplish all of that while barely lucid.

The number that shows up in his notifications on his homescreen certainly diminishes any drive he has to answer back.

Lance (sent: 19:24, Tue, 01 Oct):  
_did u have a good time last night ;)_

Lance (sent: 19:25, Tue, 01 Oct):  
_is that why u were so tired?_

Lance (sent: 19:36, Tue, 01 Oct):  
_u can’t hide this from me u know i’ll eventually ind out_

Lance (sent: 19:37, Tue, 01 Oct)  
_*find_

Keith looks at his phone, his mind blank as it doesn’t seem to want to distinguish an answer, before taking it off vibrate, placing it on silent, and putting it back on the nightstand beside his bed. He rolls over to go back to sleep for the next ten hours.

He can definitely deal with Lance some other time.

_\--_

Keith will never truly know what happened before his and Lance’s relationship to begin Lance’s personal mission of trying to do what he could to lift himself up over Keith through almost any means necessary. Lance hasn’t quite been honest about the origin of it and he may never truly tell Keith why or how it happened, but it was a much more volatile collision between them, to a point that made anyone around them not want to be in the same room if they both happened to be in the same space.

It takes quite a while into Keith’s entire first year of college spent trying to figure out why Lance is so hostile toward him, why Lance has a weird obsession with besting him in everything and in every little situation regardless of its importance or relativity to a situation. There’s all these personal insults and attacks that Keith, more times than he’ll admit, wanted to run his knuckles into Lance’s face and let his feet find a new home seated up Lance’s ass. It takes intervention from Hunk, Lance’s best friend, to “encourage” Lance to apologize for all of his transgressions, and to make peace with Keith to assure that this situation dies and has no chance of being resurrected in the near future.

(Keith had asked how Hunk was able to get through to Lance and convince him to apologize because to Keith, it looked like something that was never going to be resolved no matter what, and Hunk had explained that he was honestly tired of it. He loves his best friend, but Hunk had said that Lance can act a little too rash at times, and that it took time to basically stronghand Lance into apologizing. He made Lance write a full essay on how he was going to apologize for Hunk to approve of to make sure the real thing wasn’t going to derail into something worse.)

\--

_“I know you can be good for me,”_ comes smooth and low with a deep tone, almost low enough to be whispered, _“I know you want to be good for me, don’t you?”_

Keith doesn’t normally watch a lot of porn, but lately, he’s been a little wound up. He’s just… trying to work out the desire that has built inside his chest. Normally, Keith doesn’t have many fantasies, too busy focused on the feeling getting off brings him. Sometimes, an image will come to mind but it’s usually so generic in appearance that no single person come to mind. It’ll be a pair of large tits that Keith will think of sliding his dick between as he grips himself harder, or some large and thick cock that Keith imagines in the place of his fingers. They’re all just basic material that never has anyone in mind attached to them.

But as of lately, those generic images are taking on a specific tone. They start out with their usual vague and general appearance; they have nothing special about them. It’s over the course of a couple of days that they begin to develop specifics that are normally outside of Keith’s fantasies. They take on black hair with bleached bangs, gunmetal eyes, a scar that lays against the bridge of a nose. No longer is Keith imagining some random thick cock, it’s someone’s name attached, someone’s body developing into the details he normally wouldn’t be concerned with.

Instead of examining this and sorting out how he feels, Keith thinks it would be better to distract himself with watching videos than allow himself to put a person’s name to his fantasies. There’s already people in it, images shaped into a specific fantasy, that Keith can’t possibly start thinking about someone else, especially not someone with white-colored bangs that likes to wear a snapback and can bench press Keith with no problem.

Keith does a general search as he doesn’t have anything specific in mind. He just wants something general enough that can fit the current aesthetics he’s enamored with. He just wants thick muscles; he doesn’t care who they belong to.

It’s with this search that he comes across a channel called blacklion and it fits every desire that Keith has.

There isn’t anything wrong with wanting to go through someone’s videos, wanting to investigate what kind of content they create, and judge if they should let their interest flourish based on the content available. Keith goes through dozens of this user’s content, and checks how many subscribers this channel has. It causes Keith to double take because there are three million subscribers to this channel, which is a lot more than Keith has ever seen for a typical camstar that’s not employed and supported by a company. He looks further to see if there are sponsorships listed anywhere on _blacklion_ ’s profile but he can’t find anything.

Keith sees that the channel was started five years ago, so Keith assumes this guy has been working hard to attract that much interest, and with fifty videos that all number in millions of views, it’s obvious to Keith that this guy must have found out how to appeal to people.

_“I’m just curious,”_ is a repeated litany within Keith’s mind as he has spent more than an hour on _blacklion_ ’s channel, having viewed dozens of videos that continue to convince him to watch another video. Keith continues to click on video after video, eager to see more muscles, wanting to watch those large hands stroke such a big dick, all the while allowing him to drown out the very reason why he began searching through these videos.

“ _That’s right, just take it like a good boy. You like it when I call you a good boy, huh? Mm, I can feel how you tighten up when I say that._ ”

It’s also an added benefit to know that _blacklion’_ s voice is so pleasant to listen to. It has this low, husky tone that causes Keith’s toes to curl, sinking beneath his skin and into his blood to saturate it with the desire it brings with it. It’s soft and gentle that it soothes over his skin, taking a soft kind of care to reassure Keith of all the nasty things that could be waiting with his mind, but at the same time, it’s demanding and controlling that it gives Keith no choice to yield his attention to whatever it’s telling him to do. _Blacklion_ ’s voice is self-assured and confident in what he does, but takes the time to make sure the other person wants to follow his commands, wants to give into him.

What surprises Keith the most is that _blacklion_ doesn’t try to be the typical dom that Keith has seen replicated constantly in that kind of porn. He’s not calling the people in his videos a slut or whore or any of the other degrading names that are a commonplace when it comes to showing certain types of dynamics. He’s gentle, soft, and so very encouraging that Keith didn’t even know that these types exist. He’s sure those soft types of doms exist but they don’t seem to be as popular as the ones that are aggressively commanding, and people like that, even Keith does, but the ones who take a softer route aren’t as popular or seen a lot in the industry—at least, the one Keith frequents. It’s not to say that doms who rely more on breaking down someone through more physical and aggressive mannerism are the only doms that exist, but they are emphasized more.

There’s something about hearing that deep voice encouraging him, like thickened honey as it spreads along Keith’s body, and it does so little to make Keith want to get to his knees and let _blacklion_ command him the way Keith knows he could.

That voice commanding him, demanding his attention, makes it easier to forget everything else behind that continues to follow him.

Keith doesn’t want to admit just how much Shiro has been on his mind, much more than he would normally think about someone who generally fits into the categories that Keith finds attractive. He’d see someone attractive and they’d make a brief stay in his fantasies for a little while but fade as his interest in them doesn’t go any further. It’s normal to see someone as attractive and think about what it would be like to fuck them, Keith reasons, and it shouldn’t be treated as something that needs to be smothered out of existence. Having fantasies are normal, it’s a part of human sexuality if one is interested in sex and willing.

It’s nothing like this, where Keith can’t shake the amount of physical attraction, where he can’t let it roll off his shoulder and be done with thinking about them.

Keith has spent more time than he’ll admit living vicariously through these videos where some guy is held down and fucked and thoroughly made a mess of by _blacklion_ , who is currently the stand in to prevent Keith from thinking about Shiro. It’s allowing him to make it an objective fantasy because he’s no longer focused on his attraction to Shiro. Now, Keith can think about being held down with large hands and a tight grip on his wrists that immobilize him. Keith thinks about being pushed up against the wall where his feet don’t touch the ground, a tight grip at his hips, and the rasp of a voice in his ear that tells him he’s _so good for Daddy and deserves a reward for it_.

He can do all of this without worrying about Shiro walking through his mind to invent his dreams.

In Keith’s most desperate moments, just before he feels like he’s going to come, he thinks he can feel the fingers inside his body grow, gaining a thicker size and a hand around his throat. Keith thinks he can feel a mouth at the back of his neck telling him that he’s such a good boy, a very good boy, so eager to please and so desperate for a thick cock pushing into him and how good he looks stretched around it.

It doesn’t take much for Keith imagine _blacklion_ ’s voice in his ear with, _“You’re so eager to please your Daddy, huh? I know you want to, and you’re so hard for it, too, baby. I know you’ve always wanted to be so good for me, and Daddy loves to reward good boys.”_ It feels so close, it feels like it’s being whispered to Keith instead of the nameless, faceless man that _blacklion_ fucks that his hole clenches around his lube-slick fingers, making it harder to thrust them into his body, as his body spasms, hand tightening around his cock as he pumps faster. Keith comes all over his hand and stomach, his chest heaving, almost whimpering as his body finds a release for all that tension, and biting down on the sheets of his pillow as he turns his head to muffle how loud he is.

Is it the combination of muscles, a deep, husky tone and large hands that fits Keith’s preference in men that has Keith coming so hard? Or is it because he’s channeling all of his desire into a compressed time to be rid of it and hoping anything residual will manifest as the cum left cooling on his stomach? Can he truly come his desire out in such a short time? It could be any of those, but Keith, good with compartmentalizing and pushing down his own feelings to never be dealt with, likes to say it’s the first option.

(His favorite is a shot that is pointed at _blacklion_ and the guy he’s fucking, both on their knees with the camera centered on their chests that doesn’t show anything above their collarbones, but Keith knows that _blacklion_ ’s hand is splayed along the throat of the guy based on the rasp he hears.

There’s a hand that grips at the guy’s hips, fingers digging into the skin there, gripping hard enough to see indents from _blacklion_ ’s fingers, maintaining control of the man’s movements and maneuvering the man around into whatever position _blacklion_ wants. That hand spans half of the guy’s hip, the size difference between them so pronounced that many of the comments on the video points this out, and all of them are in agreement that they look so good, and how many of them wish they were in this twink’s place to get fucked by _blacklion_ ’s big dick.

But the best part that has Keith’s mind tripping over itself is when the camera cuts to the smaller man’s stomach where Keith watches in rapt attention as the man’s stomach bulges out every time _blacklion_ pushes his cock into the guy’s body. Amethyst eyes are completely focused on the outline of it, how far it pushes out, his mind blanking out with the physical evidence that _blacklion_ ’s dick is big and thick, and that it’s bulging from the guy’s lower stomach. Just watching as it outlines itself against the underside of the man’s skin has Keith’s breath hitching.

Keith is surprised by how fast his orgasm hits him, shuddery gasps and moans barely tumbling ungracefully all over his tongue and tripping out of his mouth, and the knowledge that he could very well be watching this man almost literally have his organs rearranged by _blacklion_ ’s massive dick helps to draw out his orgasm.)

\--

It’s a regular afternoon on a Monday that sees needing caffeine more than usual to combat the lingering effects of weekend drinking and long sleep that has done something to Keith's internal rhythm that he havasn't quite recovered enough to shape into adjustment for shorter amounts of sleep.

Lance (sent: 13:47, Mon, 08 Oct):  
_ur only asset is being 70% leg_

Lance (sent: 13:50, Mon, 08 Oct)  
_u make it so hard to sell u_

Lance (sent: 13:51, Mon, 08 Oct)  
_esp with ur terrible haircut_

Lance (sent: 13:54, Mon, 08 Oct)  
_i mean have u seen your hair?_

A frown pulls at the corners of Keith’s mouth, leaning further onto his elbows as he stares at his phone on the counter.

Keith (sent: 13:59, Mon, 08 Oct)  
_why are you so obsessed with my hair???_

It’s a mystery to Keith why Lance has been so hung up on him over the last few years that he’s been here at college. Lance had declared them to be rivals back in some class Keith doesn’t have very many memories of because of how boring it was, so he doesn’t really remember what Lance considers their origin story. Lance has taken to calling his hair a mullet despite Lance clearly not knowing what a mullet looks like. Not to start an argument because it will futile, but Keith thinks his bangs and sides are clearly too long to classify it. Keith’s given up on trying to tell Lance, even once thinking about creating a slideshow on Powerpoint on terrible mullet hairstyles of the eighties, but he knows that wouldn’t discourage Lance in the slightest.

Besides, his first mistake is thinking Lance would pay attention to a Powerpoint presentation.

Now, he thinks Lance uses it as some term of endearment but Keith’s not completely sure about that one.

Lance (sent: 14:03, Mon, 08 Oct)  
_u wear a mullet_

Lance (sent: 14:04, Mon, 08 Oct)  
_that should have been left behind  
_ _in the 80s duh_

Keith rolls his eyes. 

Keith (sent: 14:09, Mon, 08 Oct):  
_if you wanna get technical you have one more than i do  
_ _really short bangs_  
_short sides_

Keith (sent: 14:10, Mon, 08 Oct):  
_kinda long in the back_

Keith pauses for a second for dramatic effect. 

Keith (sent: 14:12, Mon, 08 Oct):  
_sure you’re not projecting?_

It’s actually a little while before Lance responds and Keith thinks he can hear the offended tone Lance makes when he can’t figure out how to make a comeback. 

Lance (sent: 14:28, Mon, 08 Oct):  
_this friendship is over i can’t believe you would do this to me_

Definitely wounded, Keith notes.

Later, after that conversation, Keith had decided after that text that he’s going to grow his hair out even more just to add to the wounded pride he has delivered onto Lance. It took several months and Keith had strategically kept it wrapped up in a messy bun whenever he was around Lance. Lance would ask Keith why he suddenly decided to not let his hair down and if he was finally ashamed of his “mullet” like Keith should be.

Lance walks into the coffee shop one day to hang out with Hunk until his shift ends in fifteen minutes, readying some kind of arsenal to annoy Keith with in the process of waiting, and stops in his tracks when he sees Keith. He tries to not give into the urge to grin that wants to shape along his mouth in a vivid display, knowing Lance’s eyes are locked onto the high ponytail Keith wears, knowing the other man is tracking the length of it as it ends just below Keith’s shoulders. His bangs are messy and ruffled as the sides of his hair hang loose and pointedly out of his ponytail, though they have more than enough length to be pulled back.

And here, Lance was going on about his “mullet” earlier in the day.

It’s like a declaration of war every time Lance sees the length of it, a sort of taunt and a reminder all at once of their conversation, but Keith knows Lance isn’t going to grow out his hair. He isn’t going to change his short hairstyle as he remembers back to sophomore year of college when Lance had tried to and after six months, he cut it all off. The younger man had cited it was too much to take care of despite having a self-care regime that took an hour and a half every night, which Lance insisted he could never skip. Surely, Lance could factor in the extra time since he spends a lot of his personal time on personal hygiene, but according to Lance, it was just not achievable.

Keith spends so long with his hair long that he just doesn’t cut it all off like he had originally planned to and get back the length it used to be. He does trim it sometimes to keep it a reasonable length, not letting it move below his shoulder blades as he already has to spend enough time washing it and doesn’t need any more time put into it.


	2. 2

It’s in times of a slow morning, where the sun takes its time to become known through the slats of the blinds that used to be used as times of reflection for Keith. Normally, he would spend them thinking about topics from class, deliberating on a paper and the subject he has to choose to work in, or trying to envision how he’s going to completely pay off his student debt. The many things crossing his mind are usually to do with his future and how he’s going to be conducting himself after college.

Instead, as of the last few weeks, it’s spent thinking about thick, pronounced muscles, big, wide palms, and toned, sculpted calves. All of it taking a toll on Keith’s patience and self-control in ways Keith is blindsided by.

And in response, it leads to focusing on the outlet he has made from _blacklion_ ’s videos. 

Lately, Keith’s been having a growing interest in watching porn to quell the amount of desire along the underside of his stomach. However, no matter where Keith goes to find videos to fit is aesthetics, he keeps coming back to _blacklion_ ’s videos. He knows he’s just a nameless, faceless person in the sea of a couple million subscribers to this guy, so Keith doesn’t worry about feeling like he’s the only person visibly accessing this kind of content.

It coincides with every time Shiro comes around to the coffee shop. Whether it’s in that douchebag fratboy fashion like sleeveless Henleys with sweatpants and snapbacks. Even the gym wear of muscle shirts and basketball shorts or tight pants that should just be called leggings that Keith wants to watch those thighs flex underneath--it doesn’t matter what kind of atrocious clothes they wear; Keith finds himself unable deny it appealing to him. He can’t help but stop and stare and let everything else fall away, allowing Shiro’s body to become the only focus of color within his view.

He solves all of this by watching videos of men resembling Shiro’s physique just to allow Keith to deal with the absurd amount of desire he has.

It’s just a simple crush, he reasons, it happens to everyday people, he’s certainly not the only person to experience a strong level of physical attraction to someone.

So, what if he’s thinking about being in the place of the guy that _blacklion_ fucks, pushing their face down into the bedding with a hand on the back of their neck? Or that _blacklion_ is slowly becoming a person that vaguely starts to resemble Shiro when the fantasy takes complete hold? So, what if Keith chews on his bottom lip and his legs shake and his chest heaves as he pushes his fingers deeper into his body? That he thinks about a deep voice that begins to become too familiar, telling him that he’s a good boy and good boys deserve to be fucked?

So, _what_?

It’s only when Keith is running his fingers through the cooling cum along his stomach and thinking of Shiro’s fingers there instead, running it along his stomach and down his thighs to swirl it along his hole and push inside does Keith admit to himself that sure, maybe it could be more than just a purely physical reaction. When his mind is post-orgasm and his emotions are coming down to allow a kind of clarity, Keith finds himself unable to deny his attraction.

Frankly, it’s this kind of feeling that makes Keith want to push harder and further away from this realization, this emotional reaction that doesn’t serve a purpose to him other than an opening for vulnerability to take hold. With an emotional attachment that finds itself pushing roots into his chest, Keith’s normal response is to do what he always does: ignore it. The dark-haired man wants nothing to do with it.

There’s a word—a couple of them—that’s meant for this kind of behavior, and Pidge mentioned it once. Something tied to a reaction where his mind thinks he needs protection from forces that he can’t control. It pertains to his past, to his unideal childhood and the need to learn survival that has become tightly knit into the cartilage between his vertebrae.

Does he to examine this behavior? No, not really. Not when the answer is something Keith doesn’t want to acknowledge. Instead, Keith swallows it down and grimaces at the acrid taste, but it’s a small price he’s willing to pay when he doesn’t have to look too closely at what this means, when there’s a past at his heels that’s telling him that this is for the best.

\--

Lance (sent: 12:23, Sun, 11 Nov):  
_so i know a guy that may be willing to take u out_

Keith (sent: 12:23, Sun, 11 Nov)  
_no_

Lance (sent: 12:24, Sun, 11 Nov)  
_ok mr killjoy  
_ _how are you supposed to get laid with that attitude?_

Lance continues to try to make himself the Ultimate Wingman™ but it’s a hard job, Lance claims, when Keith is a difficult person to wingman for because Keith has a hard time accepting help and turning Lance down at every opportunity. If Keith knows anything about Lance, it’s that Lance is very stubborn when it comes to his own interests and desires, and will persist through whether it’s a good or bad idea. However, he can be swayed when it comes to solicited advice from Hunk. He’s bound and determined to see things through until the end, despite any and all evidence of it being a massive, glaring failure. Despite every single annoying aspect of Lance’s headstrong resolve, Keith will grudgingly admit that it can be an admirable trait, but that’s something that Keith will withhold from Lance for the rest of his life.

Keith (sent: 10:27, Sun, 11 Nov):  
_youre too obsessed with my sex life  
_ _just let it go_

There’s another buzz to his phone and Keith is prepared to, once again, berate Lance into letting this go. Keith knows that he’ll have at least a few days of Lance backing off before he starts up again, but it’s not Lance that texts him.

Pidge (sent: 10:31, Sun, 11 Nov):  
_can you tell lance to shut up about being a wingman  
_ _he’s currently complaining to me how you’re being difficult_

Pidge (sent: 10:32, Sun, 11 Nov):  
_he’s right beside me_

Pidge (sent: 10:33, Sun, 11 Nov):  
_complaining about you  
_ _also can you pick up some beef cause it’s stir fry night_  
i’ll pay you back

It is an unfortunate side effect but Lance is very loud about presence and very loose-lipped when it comes to many things that includes his ambition toward trying to help Keith be set up with someone. It’s mostly just Lance, having this idea that he is a master at sensing chemistry between people and doing what he can to have that potential be realized.

He calls himself “Loverboy Lance,” master of love and happiness.

Keith doesn’t mention what he would call Lance.

Keith (sent: 10:38, Sun, 11 Nov):  
_i tried it won’t work  
_ _lance is convinced i need it_

Keith (sent: 10:42, Sun, 11 Nov)  
_it’s fine i’ll get the beef on the way home_

_\--_

It’s been a week since Keith has seen Shiro and he is totally not keeping up with how long it’s been.

That’s utter nonsense.

Who cares that he’s thinking about a snapback with messy, bleached bangs that push through? That he’s thinking of arms that are corded with thick muscles, or a chest that’s broad and large and forcing the shirt over it to stretch?

There’s a lot that Keith is pointedly not thinking about as he’s trying to focus on making sure this frappuccino doesn’t have too much cream or else he’ll be hearing about it the moment he lets it go.

Keith isn’t staring at the door, waiting for the chime of the door’s bell when someone enters, listening for someone to greet a customer coming to the counter. He’s _not_ looking for any of those signs.

Though it’s been entirely uneventful since Shiro has come to the coffee shop, it’s been a field day for Lance, who’s decided to have this entire situation be called “ _Keith’s Awakening”,_ despite the knowledge that Keith’s had prior relationships. Unfortunately, it has led to Lance trying to pry his fingers into Keith’s personal life, trying to ask him any question that, in Lance’s opinion, will help him figure out how Keith feels to start planning to set him up with who he refers to as, “ _Muscle Dream Daddy_ ”.

But with the lack of Shiro’s presence, a way to contact him, or having any idea where Shiro could be to start looking, it was quickly losing steam. Without any way to make contact with Shiro, Lance can’t hope to get far into meddling in Keith’s personal love life. Lance’s operation is effectively smothered as it’s unable to get the attention that it needs to survive and as a result, Lance’s interest begins to dwindle.

Keith is leaning on his elbows on the counter, fingers drumming against the top of it, face tilted to lean against his palm. Hunk is ambling somewhere behind him, maybe in the back, but there’s no pressing need for them to do anything since no one is coming through.

He’s still not thinking of Shiro coming through the door, sidling up to him and leaning over the counter, a large hand reaching out to place those thick fingers around his chin. Keith’s not thinking of Shiro leaning forward and asking if the back room has anyone in it, or isn’t needed by anyone at this time for the next few hours. He’s certainly not thinking of Shiro saying he’s going to make this good for him, he’s going to—

The bell for the door rings and Keith’s elbow slides out from under him, jarring Keith from his thoughts as the world around him tilts suddenly and smears into colors, nearly face-planting the counter. He scrambles up, looking around to make sure no one saw him before he straightens out his apron and correcting his hat, trying to make himself appear presentable. Keith clears his throat, taking a deep breath, and hopes his voice doesn’t let on how startled he is.

His prepared greeting slides back down his throat.

In front of him stands Shiro.

There’s a distant sound of Lance gearing up somewhere behind Keith.

Keith’s mouth opens but closes, his tongue suddenly unsure how to mold the words in his mouth into a spoken language, stumbling in its effort to do or say something.

Keith’s vision narrows and centers on Shiro.

As Shiro approaches the counter, Keith can’t help but pay attention to what Shiro’s wearing: a simple grey wife beater that contours to Shiro’s chest, outlining the swell of his pecs and his abs that are well defined even though they’re covered by the wife beater. There’s sweat running down the front of the material, letting Keith know that Shiro must have just come from the gym. Shiro’s arms are vividly on display with thick, corded muscles bulging underneath the skin with veins trailing down his arms.

Keith is trying to not openly stare at how thick the taller man’s arms are, knowing that just one of Shiro’s biceps has to be thicker than Keith’s thighs. With every swing of Shiro’s arms and the closer he gets to the counter; Keith can see those powerful muscles flex. Even though it’s just regular movement and not meant to be special, Keith can’t help but be mesmerized. 

The look is completed by a pair of black basketball shorts that aren’t supposed to make any kind of fashion statement, but it’s a look that Keith thinks looks really good on Shiro.

But of course, the taller man would look good in any combination of clothes.

Shiro stops in front of the counter, oblivious to Keith’s thoughts, raising a hand to clasp at his chin as he considers the selection of coffee displayed. 

“Long time, no see,” is easy from Shiro, glancing at Keith before his eyes are back on the menu. “How’s it going?”

Okay, small talk, something Keith is sort of… garbage at maintaining, but sure, he can do this, he can make this work.

“It is.”

_“Great job, Keith,”_ his mind informs him with an undertone of sarcasm.

“Anything interesting happen while I was gone?”

There is a thought trying to climb into his mouth with persistence that wants Shiro to know about something interesting he could do, but Keith clenches his teeth together until it’s forced back down.

“Not much.”

There, still in the distance, that vaguely resembles Lance’s voice, telling him that he’s so awful at flirting.

_(“Are you ever going to talk to Allura, or just act like you can but never do?”_

_“Okay, that is a delicate situation that I am taking the utmost care to—”_

_“So, you haven’t.”_

_“You can’t just rush a man like this. It requires poise and planning and—”_

_“And you make fun of me for not being able to flirt.”_

_“Okay, Keith, you’re just being a hater now.”)_

Why is Keith even thinking about this in terms of flirting?

“Oh, really?” Shiro’s hand drops from his chin, his hands finding a place on the edge of the counter. His body leans forward, just enough to be over the counter. “Nothing happened, huh? No outrageous customers?”

Keith needs something to occupy himself with, he just can’t stand here and let Shiro get into his space because he doesn’t know how he could handle Shiro in his space. What becomes his savior is a forgotten towel sitting beside one of the pump machines, reminding him that it has been needing to be wiped down that Keith thanks his past choice to put it off.

Keith glances back, trying to gauge what Shiro is doing, who has decided to lean on his elbows, watching Keith which, in turn, makes Keith nervous. The way this feeling is quickly growing begins to unnerve Keith because he feels like he’s slowly losing control of himself, unable to deal with his own feelings and allowing an onset of irritation to build. Keith capitalizes on that, trying to hold onto it to help feel like he’s getting himself back together.

“It’s the same old adventures.”

Keith knows he can’t spend all of Shiro’s visit trying to wipe down what is reasonably a five minute cleaning, maybe eight minutes if Keith wants to really stretch it, but seeing that Hunk isn’t anywhere in the front, Keith has no choice but to face Shiro alone. He can be civil, he can interact with Shiro, he can do this without fucking it up. He knows how to talk to people, contrary to popular belief; it’s just that Keith chooses not to take positions that give him so much attention. He’s not one for the spotlight, not completely comfortable with a lot of attention.

“How can I know these adventures if you don’t talk about them?”

Shiro seems to be bound and determined to get some kind of conversation out of Keith.

When Keith turns back around, Shiro is no longer leaning on the counter, but his attention is on Keith. There’s something curious that reflects in his stare but Keith can’t identify what that could be. He can’t stare at it to figure it out, that would be weird, so Keith is just going to have to figure out a way to navigate this.

“It’s the usual. Mean customers, customers that don’t know what they want, customers that are indecisive. Nothing to write home about.”

“But something is still happening.” Shiro looks over Keith’s shoulder and at the coffee selection on the back, peering over it like he has never looked at it a day in his life. His eyes roam to the side and at the small blackboard that’s usually used to promote limited time offers or new coffee items that are actually more of an experiment of flavors to see if they’ll be a hit with the customers.

“I’d like to try that, the vanilla cinnamon latte with chocolate drizzle,” and Shiro raises his hand, pointing at the blackboard.

Right. Keith can do this.

Keith swears he can feel Shiro’s gaze on his back and it’s honestly making him nervous. His fingers clench a little harder at the cup, squeezing in a show of nervousness, as he tries to handle making the coffee.

It’s just him at the front counter; it isn’t the first time that he’s had to operate the store by himself, and he’s more than qualified to run it by himse— 

Where is Hunk at in this situation?

Keith takes a look around the area but finds no sign of Hun—

Keith squints, staring at the door that leads to the breakroom that is cracked open just enough to allow Keith to spot what looks to be Hunk leaning over the side, or at least, part of his face. He’s peering over the edge of the door with just enough force to keep it closed enough that he won’t be spotted if someone isn’t paying attention. Hunk notices Keith looking at him and realizes that Keith knows what he’s doing and scrambles forward, pushing through the door but acting like that was something he was planning to do all along.

It isn’t just Lance who’s invested in his love life.

Keith had almost forgotten about Shiro, turning back around to hand him the drink.

“Enjoy your sugar.”

“It’s not that bad,” Shiro jokes.

Keith levels him with a look.

“It’s not all sugar, there’s other things, too.”

Keith crosses his arms, still staring at Shiro. “If you think something with more than two pumps of anything in it counts as “not all sugar,” then we should have a word about that.” 

Shiro laughs, eyes closing and head tipping back which Keith takes the chance to trace his eyes down Shiro’s throat, watching his Adam’s apple bob before Shiro stops and looks back at him. “I guess so. I can’t imagine how that would taste.”

“That’s not even the worst that I’ve had to make.”

A grin forms as the corners of Shiro’s mouth. “Do I want to know?”

A grimace sprawls across Keith’s face as he tries to recall some of the more complicated orders. “One person came in and ordered,” Keith reaches for his phone, “and I took a picture of it to show people that it’s a real order.”

Keith leans over the counter and shows Shiro.

The taller man whistles in surprise.

“Let me get this straight: this person ordered,” Shiro leans forward, squinting a little at the phone and begins to read from the receipt in the picture, “a venti caramel mocha frappuccino with ten pumps of vanilla, five pumps of caramel syrup, five pumps of mocha, three pumps of toffee nut syrup, almond milk, light chocolate drizzle, light cinnamon powder, and double blended with extra whipped cream.”

Shiro grimaces.

While putting his phone away, Keith answers with, “I wonder what people are thinking when they make these kinds of orders.”

Hunk shuffles from the side, making himself known. “I dunno what these people have going on in their lives, but those drinks? Yeah, man, I don’t think anything is going okay.”

There’s a brief laugh from Shiro before he takes a sip of his drink, making a contemplative sound. He tilts his head as he looks down at his drink (Keith notices how Shiro’s hand covers so much of the cup), staring at it as if he’s deciding he likes it or not. He smacks his mouth, rolling his tongue before he looks back Keith.

“It’s a little sweet, but I think it’s alright.”

Shiro stands at the counter a little while longer, not speaking, but looking at his drink, eyes roaming around the cup before he seems to decide that he’s spent enough time here.

“Well, I should get going. As you can see,” Shiro gestures to himself, “I just came from the gym, and I’m all sweaty and gross.”

Keith definitely noticed, more than he should.

“But thanks for the drink,” Shiro looks at his chest, “Keith.”

As Shiro begins to turn around, there’s a large part of Keith that doesn’t want to see the other man go, doesn’t want Shiro to leave just yet. His mouth answers long before his mind can attempt to scrape together words that can make a respectable effort to make sense, so all that comes out is a protesting noise. After a delayed moment, Keith tells him to wait, after his mind gets itself together just enough to get out a single word.

Shiro’s in mid-turn when he stops, head craning a little to look back at Keith.

Fuck, he didn’t think that far.

He scrambles to find any kind of reason to justify Shiro not leaving, mouth working with how dry his tongue has suddenly become.

“I, uh,” it’s shaky and unsure that has Keith berating himself. “I was going to—uh, I was going to ask...”

“Ask what?”

The other man’s face is curious, as well as another emotion that makes a brief appearance on his face before it’s shuttered away. Keith doesn’t have the time to figure out what it was supposed to be as he’s too busy cursing himself for jumping into this without thinking.

Keith swears that he’s not a disaster, he’s not this incompetent in front of someone who he finds attractive, his tongue doesn’t find it impossible to shape the sounds in his mind into something feasible and understandable. How is it that Keith is so blindsided by this attraction that it makes him incapable of fulfilling even the most basic forms of communication?

Something suddenly crams into his mind, an idea that Keith immediately latches onto.

“You, uh—you said the last time you were here that your major was aeronautical engineering?”

Shiro hums.

“I was wondering if you still have your notes? Just anything that I could take a look at to… help me?”

He internally winces at how that sounds, not at all like he’s sure of himself.

“Oh, you remembered,” is a little surprised from Shiro, but there’s interest that colors the underside of his words.

Now that Keith has a purpose, it makes the words easier to mold and piece together and not have them flail around in a crescendoing cacophony of sounds within his mind.

“I mean, when you’re in a major where you need all the help you can get, you take advantage of what’s available.”

Shiro places a hand on his chest and lets his face look offended. “I can’t believe you’re using me for your needs. What about my needs?”

Keith’s mind blacks out for a moment before the generators come back online.

“Okay, okay,” Shiro says, waving his hand that’s meant to placate, “I can go back and try to dig up my old notes.”

On one hand, Keith is certainly relieved to be able to have extra help with his major. He’s spent so much time looking through books and notes and articles get every bit of knowledge and wisdom possible that he can feel it leaking from his ears to make a mess all over his feet. Words begin to blur together until they create an indistinguishable mass of ink along the page that Keith has to back away from what he’s doing until his mind can figure out how to understand anything again.

That little bit of help from Shiro will do wonders to ease his mind of the burden.

But on the other hand, that means Shiro will be around Keith a lot more, more than just these casual meetings at work. There’s a meaning that’s tethering them together and not allowing Shiro the opportunity to escape. It makes him nervous to know that the very person that has blindsided him with how attractive he is feels so uncharacteristic of Keith to fall (there’s a word there that Keith doesn’t think about) so quickly for someone’s physical looks.

“I’ll let you know when I find them, but I do have to work tonight, so I might not be able to get to it that fast.”

The sincere way Shiro seems to be able frame everything does a lot to diffuse any kind of irritation that Keith may be experiencing. Shiro could tell Keith that he was an underground drug dealer that ran blackmarket jobs and Keith would find himself endeared by the sincere and pleasant tone the taller man would explain everything with.

Keith watches Shiro walk to the door before turning around to give a lazy wave to him, a pleasant grin, and, “I’ll be around sometime!” as he leaves through the door.

Keith stands there for a little while, staring at the door, somewhat expecting Shiro to come back through—

“You didn’t even get his number!”

Right.

Hunk is still here.

Keith cranes his neck to look at Hunk who hovers near the break room door, arms crossed in front of his chest, and his face in disbelief.

Hunk has a point.

“You were so close! All you had to do was ask for his number, Keith!” Hunk raises his arms over his head, “I can’t believe you didn’t get it!”

Keith makes a face. “I can get it the next time he comes in. It’s no big deal.”

Hunk’s arms lower, the disbelief intensifying on his face as his arms raise, palms spread.

“No big deal? _No big deal?!_ ” Oh, yes, the dramatic tone Hunk gets when he becomes very invested in something.

Keith is a little confused about why people (in all honesty, it’s only Lance and Hunk who have expressed interest and though that’s not a lot of people, it’s still too many for Keith) have an interest in his personal affairs, not understanding why people seem to find it so important. It does nothing to enrich their lives, it doesn’t help them solve their problems, it doesn’t earn them money—just why do they find it in their best interest to witness this? 

He’s not some celebrity caught up in a very public scandal, but with the way people are viewing this, he may as well be.

“Keith, you were on the _cusp_ ,” and Hunk raises his arms before throwing them forward, giving Keith a knife hand, “of getting a date with Shiro! You were so _close_ and I wanted to see you succeed! But you didn’t! How could you not succeed?!” 

Keith’s brows come together, his mouth slackening to where it hangs open, and his head tilts as he shakes his head minutely back and forth disapproval. His expression only further motivating Hunk to go on.

“I want you to get out there and find the perfect man! Shiro is here for you, Keith! I can’t believe you let this slip away and you have to do it all over again.”

Keith’s mouth closes before he leans his hip against the counter and crosses his arms. “How many romance novels have you been reading?”

Hunk’s entire demeanor becomes defensive. “Hey, there’s nothing wrong with enjoying a little romance.”

“Those are books. This is real life.”

“How can you not want to see a good romance bloom?” Hunk raises his arms, bending at the elbow and tucking them against his chest, fists clenching as he leans back to stare somewhere at the ceiling. “Romance is a sacred thing! It’s beautiful, it brings light to our lives, and it should be cherished!”

“Real life, Hunk.”

Hunk’s arms drop as a sigh leaves his throat before he turns his head to Keith. “At least let me live through you.”

“You’re not interested in Shiro.”

“Ah-hah!”

Keith’s face is deadpan when he says, “I know you know what I’m getting at.”

“I just want to see you happy. You being happy makes me happy.”

“Why is this so important to everyone?” Keith turns back to counter, placing his hands upon the top of it and he regards them. “What I do in life isn’t anyone’s business.”

Keith doesn’t look at the large man but he hears a rustling. “I just really think it’s nice to see you interested in something other than glaring at customers.”

“I’ve had plenty of relationships—” Keith shakes his head. “Actually, I don’t have to justify myself. It’s my business and no one else’s. Just leave it alone, Hunk.”

Keith knows Hunk will respect his wishes and won’t step out of line and into actual personal and sensitive territory, unlike Lance, who likes to push and be obnoxious about it. Everything about Lance is loud, and therefore, his meddling skills are loud and unable to be subtle. Hunk is better but he has his moments of being unable to disguise his true intentions.

“Hey, it’s not wrong to want something nice. I mean, it’s great, but you can be happy, too, man.”

\--

It’s one of those rare nights when Keith isn’t swimming in the words of his textbooks and barely keeping himself afloat, where Keith’s hand doesn’t have the smear of ink on the side of his palm. It’s a night that Keith takes advantage of by doing something he normally doesn’t get to do.

He goes to bed early.

_“That’s so lame,”_ echoes through Keith’s mind that sounds suspiciously like Lance’s voice.

Keith has a lot of work that he has to undertake to fulfill his major’s requirements, from continuous all-nighters that make Keith forget what day of the week it is and checking his calendar because of how much doubt he has. Keith has made the library his part-time home because his apartment just isn’t equipped with the resources he needs—his laptop may be a great tool, and though he can pull up all the academic papers he wants, he can’t pull up all of the books he needs for his classes. Keith is swamped with work so much that it makes him wonder how he’s not completely exhausted while working a part time job.

It’s almost nineteen-thirty when Keith pulls the blanket back and burrows into his bed, getting comfortable and starting to scroll through his phone and let himself drift off. He’s feeling pretty good about the amount of sleep he’s about to get, actually feeling excited at getting more than six hours.

With that, Keith turns on the small, portable stereo he has and puts on a sleeping playlist, the sound turned low enough so it’s more of background noise, and rolls over to go to sleep.

\--

_Thump_.

Keith’s eyes fly open as his body jolts.

His mind is disoriented, the veil of sleep ripped off his mind so fast that it leaves Keith unsure of what’s going on. He groans, the sound rough with sleep and tiredness, his fingers coming up to rub at his eyes before he drags his hand down his face, teeth gritting as his hand pauses at his mouth before he lets it fall away. Keith leans toward the nightstand, hand reaching out to his phone, patting around at the nightstand before he makes contact with the device.

Keith fumbles a little with his phone before he’s able to draw it back to himself and checks the time.

_22:40._

He’s been asleep for only three hours.

Keith rolls over in his bed and onto his back, placing his arm over his eyes as he groans again, eyes squeezing shut while his mind is trying to reorient itself. His head turns under his arm, looking at his phone like it’s going to give him something, but he lets his arm fall back down and onto the bed as he tries to brush off that vaguely sick feeling that comes with being awakened from not enough sleep.

Keith sits his phone back on the nightstand, settling into his bed again to go back to sleep. He’s still good on time to sleep, he doesn’t have to be awake until a little half after six in the morning, so he’s working with just a little under eight hours, so it’s not to the point where Keith dreads waking up from the little sleep he’s getting.

His eyes start to close, his breathing evening out, and that drifting feeling he gets when falling asleep settles over him and Keith is ready chuck this up to something in his dream that startled him awake.

_Thump. Thump._

Keith’s eyes squint as they glare at the ceiling.

Definitely not his dream.

So, his enthusiastic ceiling mate is making an appearance again.

Keith’s hands raise, pressing his palms to his face and groaning in displeasure.

Okay, so the person who lives above him doesn’t always do this. Keith can’t really say the person has a set schedule to have their back blown out, or blowing someone else’s back out, whichever one, and be really loud about it every single night. In actuality, the person did this almost three weeks ago, so Keith had assumed that it was just a night of really hard sex. He could write it off as not serious and have no need to pursue actions to convince the tenant above him to keep it quiet. People have loud sex at times, it happens.

However.

Looking at the clock on his phone again, Keith wants to know what kind of job the above tenant has that lets him stay up so late in the night. What kind of hours is this person working that doesn’t require him to be asleep right now?

Another thump and a muted groan through the ceiling follows.

Keith stares at the ceiling as the frequency of thumps start to increase, getting louder as it sounds like the people above him are starting to really get into it.

Keith grabs at his pillow and rolls over, sandwiching his head with it, trying to block out the sound.

It doesn’t help.

There is, what sounds to be, a loud whine that makes it through the ceiling, a succession of hard thumps of a headboard against the wall, and the sound of someone hitting the wall with something that isn’t a headboard.

Keith peers at his clock again.

_22:56._

Keith’s been doing a lot of groaning and it’s not about to stop.

Alright, okay, Keith can get through this. He has about seven and a half hours of sleep left, he can make it.

However, that thought is stomped on when one of the people above him gets loud.

And it’s loud enough to distinctly hear, _“Fuck, your cock is so big!”_

A long and suffering groan leaves Keith.

Well, it’s nice for that guy to know how big the person’s dick is and how good it’s railing him. It’s also a distinctly male voice that made the statement.

Normally, Keith really doesn’t care about other people’s business, it really doesn’t affect him in the long run, or even the short run, so it’s not his priority to know and understand the latest gossip that’s being circulated through the grapevine. If the two above him want to have loud, rambunctious sex, then that’s their thing, it has no bearing on Keith’s life.

However, Keith would be more inclined to have that during the weekend at this time of night when no one has anything to do, when work isn’t a pressing matter, and when no one has classes looming in their schedule of the day. If someone wants to fuck at one in the morning, at least do it on a Friday or Saturday, or some other federal holiday, where people aren’t obligated to be asleep at this time so they’re lucid enough the next day to get through their schedules.

Sure, it’s Thursday and Keith’s Friday classes aren’t as busy like they would be on the other days of the week, but he still has his shift at the coffee shop. It’s, unfortunately, his longest shift of the week. He’s not going to be relieved from his shift until later in the evening. If it weren’t for his job, Keith wouldn’t have a long day, but because of it, he’s only going to have about an hour between his last class ending and the start of his shift and that is not an adequate amount of time to nap.

A muffled moan comes from above. The headboard rocks against the wall.

_23:01._

Well, this just had to happen on a night where he tried to go to bed early.

Keith tries to close his eyes to go to sleep, trying to see if he can sleep through the people above him.

\--

The time, _01:22_ , glares from his clock.

Keith glares back at the clock.

Well… just a little over five hours is just going to have to do.

\--

The day is… long.

Keith is slumping further into himself as the day goes on, consciously fighting to not fold in half, but he is tired and barely making it through his classes.

His last obstacle is the shift at the coffee shop.

\--

It turns out that his shift is the most trying shift he’s had to work.

It starts out the same: putting on his server’s apron, wiping down the counters, making sure there is enough syrups and sauces and drizzles, and all the other ingredients are ready to go and not approaching their expiration date. He makes sure to wipe down the few tables that are in the coffee shop, and sweeping the floor before checking to see if any of the trash needs to be taken out. Sure, it takes Keith longer to complete these tasks as tiredness is weighing heavily on his back and forcing him to carry it around, but Keith’s able to get them done. There’s little bit of fumbling as his hand-eye coordination is suffering from his lack of sleep but it is able to be done.

Many times, Keith looks at the breakroom, thinking about that very comfortable recliner, and still having no idea how the recliner was able to be put there in the first place. He feels a deep longing to escape to the breakroom for a nap, a very long nap, a nap that would last the rest of his shift.

Except this is the real world and dreams like that are better left as dreams and not applied to actual reality or else Keith will find himself fired from his job, and cutting off his income will give him too many hardships. A nap isn’t worth losing his job, so Keith will just have to deal with the fatigue he feels. The fact that it’s Friday is a consolation for him because that means the weekend starts after his shift and he can sleep all of Saturday away without having to worry about any commitments.

And because Keith wants that so badly, time is going to make it feel like each minute is a year and make it feel like the weekend isn’t in the near future.

Hunk doesn’t come in for another hour, so it’s just Keith on his own.

Keith spends that time walking back and forth behind the counter, stretching and reaching, doing all he can to keep himself active and moving, to keep himself awake. So far, it’s having somewhat of a positive effect for him. Keith tries to psyche himself up, keep his mind active, tries to think about things and talk out his thought process for a number of topics, even so far as repeating formulas and theorems from some of his classes.

However, Keith’s mind can’t keep up with the demand of information and it shows with how slow it’s coming out. It becomes tangled up, each word crashing into each other and piling up. Keith starts to run words together and his sentences would trail off as his mind slows down as fatigue would creep in, but Keith would shake his head and try to get back on track. There’s many promising starts to his thoughts, to the information that he pulls from his memory, but not too far into his self-discussion does his mind veer to the shoulder of the road to drive into the ditch before Keith can successfully catch it.

It takes twenty minutes after Keith took up his shift for the first customer to come through the door.

Scratch that, it’s a group of customers.

Keith internally groans, and tries to make sure his vision isn’t blurring and he’s really seeing four customers instead of one.

Unfortunately, one of them is the kind that is looking for a date, and Keith happens to be on this guy’s list of targets to consider.

Keith has to be polite and decline them, but the dude is persistent in trying to get a date out of Keith, trying to do what he can to get Keith to say yes. The guy remarks that someone as _pretty_ as Keith deserves to have a _real man_ show him how relationships are done right. The guy even tries to imply he has a generously-sized asset that Keith may be interested in.

Keith is not having it.

Within the next thirty seconds, the group leaves the coffee shop, the group laughing at the guy for trying and failing to get a date with Keith, who is scorning Keith and sneering at him. He chose to leave the coffee shop without ordering anything because how sour he is about being rejected, and that not buying a coffee was the “punishment” for Keith.

It’s unfortunate within the customer service industry that there are people who believe they can push the workers and they won’t do anything about it. There’s the belief of, _“The customer is always right,”_ that it has led to people’s entitlement showing through their actions, and many of those actions are nasty behaviors that often lead to the service worker being scorned for any kind of negative reaction. A customer complaining about them reacting to them is bound to receive more weight than the customer’s rude and ugly behavior toward them.

Keith has been on the receiving end of that entitled behavior more than he would like to admit.

It has also led to people thinking that entitlement extends to thinking they can get dates out of the workers, namely Keith.

Keith has gotten enough people thinking they can ask him out, girls with low cut shirts that would lean over the counter and push out their chests to show off their tits to distract him into saying yes. Guys that were too confident and assured they could get a yes out of Keith by telling him how big their dicks were and how they could get Keith addicted. Keith has met all kinds of people thinking he’s just _too pretty_ to pass up, and that it’s a shame that he’s single and not experiencing someone treating him right.

What bothers Keith is that they all love to call him pretty, that it’s the only thing about him worth mentioning, that he can’t be anything in their eyes other than some precious arm candy they’re looking to have.

He’s pretty.

Oh, so _pretty._

At times, Keith thinks people only see that he’s some exotic mix of ethnicities that they have to get their hands on. His mother is Japanese, and before he died, his father had told him he was half-Native American but never from which side.

(His mother had found him while he was in the foster system, about to age out of it and be out on his own, but she did all she could to teach him about a culture that he was denied as a child, allowing him to learn about things that he wished he could have.)

It was obvious to Keith that he inherited more of his looks from his mother and he knew that people took notice of that long before noticing his person.

(Heated pain lays across the skin of his fingers, red blooms along his knuckles, and fingers digging into the skin of his palm, biting into it with nails that are sure to be broken.

His chest heaves, his lungs rattle, his throat is scratched raw.

There’s blood along Keith’s mouth, smeared across the side, his lip is split where his tongue has touched over too many times. He’s in the process of developing a black eye, but there’s an angry satisfaction that roils through his veins and feeds into his being.

“Am I pretty now?”

Amethyst eyes stare down a figure on the ground and the figure on the ground flinches, trying to back away from him, but Keith steps forward.

“Am I your _pretty boy Asian_ now?”)

Keith is standing behind the counter, slumping into himself and trying to keep himself from folding further, tapping his fingers across the counter as he waits for Hunk to come in and help him deal with the grind of customers. Already, he’s had two customers try to flirt with him and though the second one wasn’t as persistent as the first, he was still put off by it. It was easier to turn the second person down, but it still wasn’t pleasant to go through.

And that’s all within the first hour.

Keith glances back at the blackboard as temptation begins to collect in his mind to make himself a coffee to try to provide a temporary fix for his sleepiness. It’s a futile thought, knowing exactly how caffeine will affect Keith, as the last thing he needs is to consume something that will, no doubt, make him even more tired. It’s just this once that Keith really wishes he could have coffee, envying those who can drink it and wake up but instead, here he is, having to stay awake on sheer force of will alone.

Just four hours left until he can collapse into his bed.

Four.

Hours.

Keith is in the middle of drifting off again, eyelids drooping and drool beginning to leak out the side of his mouth, when the door pushes open, the sound of the door’s bell just loud enough to jar Keith from his stupor. Keith rubs his eyes, trying to clear away some of the fatigue that has settled there in an effort to make himself look presentable but considering that even though Keith is tired as hell and how it must be showing, it apparently doesn’t do anything to deter people from thinking he’s attractive.

When Keith finishes rubbing at his eyes, a yawn coming in behind it, he gets a look at what he thinks is going to be another unfortunate encounter.

In reality, it’s Shiro.

Keith is not prepared for this.

Keith forgets to say the greeting for customers, too busy wondering if it’s just his sleep-deprived mind trying to conjure something to make him feel better and motivate him into doing something, but just a few blinks later, Shiro is still standing in front of him.

“So,” Shiro begins, looking at him before his eyes find the small blackboard behind him, “what kind of specials are there for today?”

A bell rings, and Keith leans over to the side to see who is coming through.

It’s Hunk, carrying a few books, and he’s saying, “I’m a little late, I know, but professor Iverson really wanted to cram this lesson and—” Hunk looks up, the sound dying in his throat. He stops, looking between Keith and Shiro before he declares, “I have to go to the bathroom. I’ve been, uh, h-holding it for a while now!” and beelines it for the bathroom.

Keith wants to groan because he knows exactly what Hunk is trying to do.

Today, Shiro is wearing a plain black shirt, no logos, no designs, but it does stretch over his chest and lightly outlines the muscles underneath. Instead of shorts, Shiro is wearing dark blue jeans, also doing wonders for showing off Shiro’s thighs. In all, Shiro isn’t dressed in a complicated way or trying to follow fashion trends or needing to buy only name brand clothes that cost more than what Keith pays per semester.

It’s a simple way of dressing but it’s doing wonders for his figure.

Oh, right, Shiro asked a question.

Keith turns back around because, admittedly, he didn’t really read over what was written on the blackboard. His eyes saw the board, saw the writing, but his mind didn’t actually process what was written there, so Keith has to subtly try to read while acting casual about knowing what is there.

“It’s nothing too out there.” Keith cranes his neck to look back at the board, trying to look casual. “Just the same old trick to get people to spend more money.”

Keith doesn’t know what it says, he’s too tired to even want to read it.

Shiro chuckles, the sound pleasant and already becoming a highlight of the day, keeping his eyes on the board for a moment longer before he fixes Keith with a contemplative look.

“Any recommendations on what to drink today?”

_“Me,”_ Keith wants to say but he holds it in.

“It depends on what you’re looking for.”

A smile graces his lips. “I’m sure you know all kinds of recommendations for someone who is clueless about coffee.”

There’s just the little thing about Keith’s reaction to caffeine that keeps him from indulging in it. Many late nights trying to cram as much information as possible would have been completely ruined by one sip of coffee. However, Keith has been curious about energy drinks and if they’d have the same effect, if the amount of sugar could counteract the amount of caffeine in there but it is decided that it’s probably not a good idea to test that out. Being caught between sleep and wakefulness is not an experiment he wants to try.

Keith shrugs instead, hoping Shiro doesn’t want Keith to expand on that.

Shiro arrives at his choice, answering with, “I think I’ll take the drink you recommended last time.”

It takes Keith way too long to process that, his mind trying to navigate through the nearly opaque film that has settled over his mind, coming up blank, unable to remember anything beyond a day ago.

To cover how much he is struggling to process anything, Keith responds with, “I make a lot of recommendations to people for coffee. You think you stand out from them?”

The larger man veers back a little, placing a hand on his chest, turning his head to the side, and makes a pained face. “Ouch, that really hurt, Keith.”

Keith snorts, playing along with, “You’re gonna have to work harder to stand out.”

Shiro drops his hand to cross his arms across his chest and grins. “I’d like to try a caramel macchiato.”

After Keith rings it up, he scoots over to the side and toward the pumps and blenders next to the register and says, “I thought you’d order something more interesting than that.”

“Hey, not all of us can stomach a ten step coffee creation.”

Keith’s face curls in disdain.

There’s silence between the two, maybe a few minutes before Shiro says, “I’ve been wondering about something.”

Keith hums a questioning noise in response.

“How did someone in the engineering field end up in a coffee shop? I’d expect you to do some part-time internship somewhere, but a coffee shop? I’d never guess that.”

Keith isn’t able to stop a yawn from escaping, but he walks to the edge of the counter where finished coffees are handed out. Shiro stands in front of him, watching as the shorter man places the cup down but doesn’t move back to the register.

“This is just to make extra money. I don’t want to spend any of the loans I have on anything but school and create more debt. I can use this job to pay for other things without using my loans. Plus, the coffee shop is willing to work with students’ schedules and create shifts that are best for us.”

Keith leans against the counter, elbows resting on top of it, watching as the taller man takes a drink, “I don’t really like dealing with people, but any money sort of takes priority.”

“Ah,” Shiro says after he’s finished drinking some of his coffee, “the shitty jobs we’ll do for money.”

Keith nods.

“That reminds me of one of the first jobs I had. I was the guy who stood outside in the giant sandwich suit in a hundred degree weather. Didn’t get many breaks ‘cause the manager wanted the customers. I almost got heat stroke a few times, though I did think about letting myself pass out to show my boss that it really sucked ‘cause he didn’t want to hear any complaints that related to wearing the suit. He was more concerned about business than our well-being.”

“Ouch.”

“You wouldn’t believe how much I sweated in those suits.”

Keith’s face wrinkles. “Gross.”

“You’re telling me, I had to wear that thing.”

As Shiro relives past memories of horrible jobs, Keith is glad for it since it allows his mind a distraction from the sleep deprivation trying to get his attention, still trying to make his mind unable to navigate the most basic of problems. Shiro’s voice is pleasant to listen to, and Keith could honestly listen to Shiro talk about any kind of subject.

Keith decides to change the subject and direct the attention elsewhere.

“Since you know what I have to sink to for money, what shitty job do you do to pay for college?”

That question stops Shitro, that easygoing expression sliding from his face and cracking to pieces below them somewhere as Shiro gets this somewhat contemplative look on his face. He doesn’t answer for a little while, the conversation between going stagnant and a little awkward at how fast the dialogue has been cut. Keith takes this as Shiro possibly being ashamed at what he has to do.

“That bad, huh?”

Shiro shakes his head. “It’s not too bad.”

“It can’t be worse than being the sandwich guy.”

“No, and thank god, but it’s...” but Shiro pauses as though he’s rolling the words he wants to say around his tongue and testing them out, organizing it into something feasible, “it’s kind of a project I’m working on—have been working on for a while.”

Keith squints. “It’s not anything illegal, is it? I won’t have to watch my back for associating with you?”

Shiro laughs. “Oh, no, nothing like that.”

Keith shifts on his feet, bending his legs at the knee and trying to keep himself a little active to help ward off the building weight of tiredness. He halts his movements after a moment, rolling his shoulders a little. “I’d sure hope so.”

The taller man waves his free hand in a dismissing gesture. “No, it’s a little independent project that has to do with film. Just small screen stuff.”

That bit of information sparks an interest in Keith’s chest, his brows raising in question.

“You’re doing film?”

The other man nods.

“Anything in theatres?” Keith leans forward, further on his elbows as he’s practically leaning his upper body onto the counter.

“Nothing like that, just small things.”

“Any chance that I’ll see any?” Keith asks in good nature and grinning.

Keith starts thinking about Shiro in awkward clothing and stuttering behind the scenes to get some lines correct, or unable to figure out what to do with his hands. The smaller man thinks about potential bloopers and deleted scenes and how many times scenes had to be redone because someone just couldn’t stay serious during the take. He thinks of Shiro spending nights awake trying to memorize lines and acting them out in his dorm room, or maybe he has an apartment, but the thought of all those little things is almost enough to make him laugh.

He files these away to ask later, just to see how embarrassed Shiro will get.

Shiro shrugs, obviously not giving away any specific details. Perhaps it’s a secret project? 

“Maybe,” he says instead. “If the company makes it big, I’ll let you know if it does.”

Keith wants to press further about what Shiro does when there is a loud and pointed sound of a throat clearing, followed by, “Excuse me, are you serving or not?”

Keith winces, knowing he truly did get caught up in the conversation.

Shiro shakes his head, “I’ll tell you about it some other time, but you have work to do.” With that, Shiro reaches into his pocket, producing a piece of paper for Keith. “For those notes you wanted.”

He backs away from the counter, turning around and waving a hand as he approaches the door.

When Keith gets finished with the customer, albeit very unhappy and snappy, he unfolds the paper Shiro gave him, finding it has Shiro’s number written on it.

“You finally got his number? Good job, Keith! I’m so happy for you.”

Hunk’s voice is booming beside him and Keith winces, stepping away from him before he levels the other man with a glare. “Where were you?”

Hunk raises his hands. “Dude, I didn’t want to interrupt, you two looked really cozy.”

“That’s not a real reason.”

“It is for love.”

“Whatever,” Keith decides to settle on instead. “I’m going to go nap for two hours because the guy above me started up again last night.”


	3. 3

It only takes one piece of information to alter Keith’s reality.

\--

It’s a Saturday night where there’s nothing of importance that looms beyond the horizon that allows Keith to relax into his bed.

There are no commitments that Keith has to take care of, his homework completed, no shift in the coming days for him at the coffee shop, and in all, it’s going to be an uneventful weekend that Keith is grateful for.

And because Keith has free time, he uses it to scroll through _blacklion_ ’s page.

It’s been a month since Keith has discovered his page and it’s been a month since Keith has looked at any other site for porn content. The way _blacklion_ does his videos, the way they’re filmed and the camera angles used for it, how they’re edited and put together, the way they highlight everything that Keith wants to be focused on, Keith can barely find any interest in other videos outside of the content provided on _blacklion_ ’s page. It’s so organized, the categories and their playlists neatly arranged to make them easily accessible that it puts every other user Keith may have thought about frequenting their content to shame.

It also helps that there aren’t videos that emphasize barely legal teens in their titles, like there is only so many videos he can see like that listed on someone’s uploads before Keith finds himself leaving the page. Keith’s not a fan of how some of these people obsess over youthfulness of teenagers and have full pages dedicated to it.

There’s a message posted that Keith hadn’t seen, but he reads that _blacklion_ is intending to do a solo video which Keith will admit that he has a slight preference for over the others. Don’t get him wrong, Keith absolutely loves watching _blacklion_ take other men apart under him, ones that are much smaller than him, guys with large muscles that Keith loves to watch strain and reduce that macho posturing into something softer and needy. It’s those ones where Keith gets to see _blacklion_ ’s body on display and seeing the more intimate details, from getting to see the prominent veins in _blacklion_ ’s arms, watching those cut abs tighten and flex, seeing the sweat roll down that defined chest and the cool air of the room harden his nipples.

So, needless to say, Keith is anticipating the next video.

Keith won’t mention that lately; he’s been thinking of Shiro’s face for _blacklion_. It’s too easy to think about since _blacklion_ doesn’t show his face, barely even goes above his collarbones so his face is always obscured. Keith has been trying to double down on letting himself imagine Shiro in _blacklion_ ’s place, but _blacklion_ too easily shares a similar physique to Shiro, making the temptation all the easier to give in to despite Keith’s efforts to lessen the impact. It’s with every appearance in the coffee shop that Shiro makes, the greater the kindle of desire under his skin burns hotter. It starts to threaten to boil his blood inside his veins because the desire is becoming too great in abundance in his veins.

There is some vague connection to _blacklion_ ’s voice to Shiro’s, but it’s too deep, it’s a rumbling sort of tone that is exaggerated a little in an effort to make his true voice, but other than the gentle tone of commands, there isn’t anything similar to them. However, it’s enough for his mind to want to draw a connection to it.

After Keith has finished cleaning the cum off his fingers and changing his sheets, he settles into his bed and mindlessly scrolls through his phone, ready for sleep to settle in. It’s only a little after twenty-one hundred but Keith doesn’t care for staying up when he doesn’t have to, taking advantage of sleeping in. Since next week is looking to be a grinding week and a test of patience since three of his professors are introducing heavy but very important chapters that will, no doubt, eat every single moment of time he’ll get, Keith is more than willing to get the sleep he’s going to miss out on now.

That drifting feeling starts to take hold and he begins to sink further underneath the waves of oblivion but close enough to the surface where Keith can see the sky.

_Thump._

His eyes snap open.

Oh, no.

Denial clamors to settle in hard and fast, quick to rationalize the situation and make it seem like maybe this is just a fluke, not every noise above him means someone is fucking. Perhaps someone just stepped hard on the floor, maybe someone fell, maybe someone is just too fucking clumsy and hit the wall. It’s not always sex and Keith’s lizard brain needs to stop associating every loud sound with something sexual.

It doesn’t happen for a while and perhaps Keith was thinking of it in the worst sense. Feeling assured, he lets his eyes start to droop, trying to get back into encouraging sleep to begin its onset.

_Bang._

Okay.

This will not be happening.

Keith sits up in bed and throws his blankets off. He’s quick to mourn the warmth of his blankets and having to move out of his comfortable position, but it’s with the sound of furniture being moved that quickly allows Keith to shed those feelings that try to convince him to stay in bed. He quickly strides to the other side of his apartment, looking for his shoes and slipping them on without caring about socks.

The last thing Keith wants to hear for the next two or three hours is how the guy living above him has a big dick and how hard that big dick is going to rearrange a man’s organs. Yes, Keith is a little jealous to know he’s not the one trying out that dick but those feelings are just from his neglected sex drive and easy enough to ignore, but he can’t block out the sounds of two people going at it and deciding to say fuck off to the noise ban after twenty-two hundred.

Keith nearly tears out of his door, almost forgetting to shut it, and walks briskly toward the stairs and nearly stomps up them as he reaches the floor above him. He scans the door numbers until he gets to the one that is directly above his own apartment.

Keith is not gentle when it comes to knocking.

There’s a lot of angry words that swirl around Keith’s mind, all of them sour in taste, ready to blister his tongue when they flow across because of how much irritation is in them. Keith begins to collect them together and string them into something feasible that will let this guy know that Keith is very upset about this and he’s not going to stand another night of having to listen to this dude bang.

Keith crosses his arms, eyes narrowing at the door the longer it goes unanswered. Keith is ready to kick on it instead of knocking when he heard the sound of a lock click, a chain being removed, and the door opens.

It’s Shiro who answers the door.

Keith nearly swallows his tongue.

Shiro stares at him, eyebrows raised, a surprised look on his face as he fully comes out from behind the door and Keith’s mind becomes a blue screen error.

Shiro is absolutely not wearing a shirt.

Keith cannot help his eyes as they take in all that is to offer, from the incredible swell of Shiro’s chest that expands as he breathes, the heavy set of muscle his pecs have that must be firm to the touch, the pointed look of his nipples, to the highly defined look of his abs, and with a trail of hair pushing past his pants—

“Keith? What are you doing here? How’d you even know I live here?”

Shiro’s voice is surprised but deep in a way that Keith has never heard before and it’s very distracting, but Keith isn’t one to be deterred, however, the scalding words he had in mind have been immediately doused in ice water.

Keith pointedly looks at Shiro’s face, trying to keep his eyes from straying anywhere on Shiro’s body.

There is a flush to Shiro’s face, spreading across and creeping down his neck, obviously mirroring Keith’s own embarrassment, but the shorter man isn’t going to think about how good that flush looks.

Keith absolutely cannot stop his eyes from trailing away from Shiro’s face so Keith tries to improvise. He raises an arm and ducks his head, scratching at the back of his head to hide how he’s actually unable to keep his eyes on Shiro’s face, too busy distracted by the muscles on display and—

Shiro is just wearing a pair of black boxer briefs.

On the waistband, reads _blacklion_ in a white scrawl.

Keith’s mind blanks out for a moment.

_Blacklion_.

The next set of words out of Keith’s mouth comes too fast for him to stop them.

“You’re _blacklion_?”

There is a series of events that follows that question.

Keith is absolutely mortified that he has asked Shiro about his identity as a possible camboy, a big (there’s a cough in Keith’s mind somewhere) camboy with a sizeable amount of followers, who has a semi-popular name in the camming industry (Keith did a little bit of research in the midst of a thirst-induced night), and he just flat out asked Shiro if he’s a camboy. Should he explain that this camboy wears a black pair of black boxer briefs with his camming name across the waist band because it’s his trademark and that Keith just happened to think Shiro wearing it could mean something?

There’s surprise that quickly overtakes Shiro’s features, his eyebrows pushing up and toward his hairline, his mouth unspooling and hanging out slightly as he stares down at Keith. There’s a thought that pops in Keith mind that makes him want to recoil even further because he’s just possibly been beating off to Shiro’s body for weeks. That’s why he could never completely satisfy his arousal because he was essentially looking at the same person he was thirsting for and his mind recognized it on some level without realizing it.

Instead of questioning who this _blacklion_ is, Shiro’s words are far from expected.

“You watch my videos?”

That.

Well.

Shiro seems to realize that wasn’t what he wanted to say, his mouth snapping shut, looking like he really should not have said that.

All Keith can think about is that he’s seen Shiro’s dick.

It’s big.

He’s thirsted after that dick.

Keith has no idea what to do now.

There’s an awkward and horrified silence that neither can actually navigate that makes every little detail between stand out. Keith’s fingers are twitching, he can feel his heart slam against the inside of his ribs, the light rasp in his throat, becoming highly aware of the clothes on his body. Keith can only stare at Shiro who mirrors the same kind of horror that Keith is feeling.

The shorter man opens his mouth, and for a moment, Keith thinks he can hear the creak of his bones as they move, but nothing comes out that can help salvage the situation. He closes his mouth instead of allowing it to stay open to resemble a fish flopping around on the ground, and tries to will anything to come to mind to break this silence.

Shiro’s arm raises and rubs at the side of his neck, looking down and away from Keith, somewhere on the ground, pulling his lips back and the tendons in his neck standing out, shifting on his feet as he tries to figure something out. His fingers dig into his neck harder than they should, gripping at the skin rather than rubbing his palm against it, pulling the skin in the direction his hand is moving. He exhales, the sound of it loud against the silence that has settled in between them.

“I, uh…” Shiro’s head shoots up so fast that Keith thinks he can hear his neck crack, “I live… downstairs… on the floor below you.”

“Oh.”

Keith takes a breath, trying so hard to scrape anything he can from the leftovers of shattered words inside his mind, finding it extremely difficult to find anything.

Keith’s arms circle behind his back for his hands to clasp together, gripping at each other a little too tightly. He sways a little from side to side

“You’re… loud sometimes.”

God, Keith has just admitted to Shiro that he can hear him have sex, and even worse is that Keith has admitted to listening to Shiro have sex. Sure, the floor between them generally mutes everything until it becomes a near indistinguishable detail, but Keith doesn’t need to fully know them to understand what sex sounds like.

What also dawns on Keith, who continues to experience horrified embarrassment pile on higher until it threatens to flatten him under its weight, is that he was listening to Shiro have sex that was being _filmed_ to be uploaded that Keith was _going to watch later_.

What a feedback he was not expecting.

Shiro winces, his hand halting on his neck

“... sorry about that.”

Keith feels like the Lisa Simpson staring at a table reaction photo come to life.

Keith blinks as he turns his gaze to the floor, to the side of Shiro’s feet, exhaling and trying to find the right words again.

“Sometimes, you just,” Keith exhales again, wincing, “make a lot of noise. It... keeps me up.”

God, this is just something.

Shiro groans, his hand leaving his neck to grasp at his forehead to drag it down his face and pauses, covering his face and keeping his eyes closed for a moment. He opens them, gazing at the floor as well, anywhere but looking at the smaller man’s face. He lets his hand fall away as he looks in the opposite direction, lips pulling into his mouth briefly as though he were smearing chapstick on his lips after applying it. His lips pull back to his teeth briefly but he still can’t bring himself to look at Keith.

“Yeah,” he still sounds mortified, “I’ll—uh.... I’ll keep it… down.”

They both still stand there, unable to truly look each other in the eyes, and Keith doesn’t know if he could actually bring himself to try to look Shiro in the face, knowing that Shiro knows that he watches the other man fuck other dudes on camera. More people than just Keith have seen Shiro’s body, have seen his muscles, have seen how big his dick is, so is there any reason for him to be ashamed?

However, Keith knows Shiro’s identity, can put a name to the voice, to that big dick.

Maybe he didn’t want people to know he cams? Maybe he has a precarious position (oh, god, Keith wants to groan) that he holds that would terminate him if they knew he fucked men on camera? Are they a company that has a problem with gay men (Keith doesn’t know if Shiro is exclusively into men and Shiro hasn’t said anything about only preferring men, and he’s not going to think about how he’s seen all of Shiro’s videos to know that the taller man hasn’t said anything on it) or people who aren’t cisgender heterosexuals and he has to keep quiet about it?

There’s so many what ifs that Keith wants to know but he’s too embarrassed to ask.

“Yeah, so, um…” the shorter man winces again, “that’s what I came here to say… just to, ah… keep it down.”

Keith absolutely hates that he can’t find something more elegant to say instead of looking so awkward and ready to keel over from the slightest push.

Shiro still looks at the ground for a moment before he looks up, eyes finding Keith’s own. He nods, a stiff kind of movement before, “... yeah. I’ll… keep it down.”

With that, Shiro does this shuffle-like movement, his body suddenly nothing but awkward limbs and movements that look less than natural, and forced to maintain their stance or they’d lose their footing. He grips the doorknob and slowly brings it forward, closing the door behind him.

Keith stands in the doorway for a moment, staring at the door, waiting for something to happen. His mind is in a state of disbelief that can’t figure out how to recover from such an action. His most important facilities have shut down as his mind is still flashing an error sign.

It’s with great effort that Keith pushes his mind back on all four cylinders, giving it enough of a push to get it working but it’s only enough to move his feet and take him away from the area. He walks down the hall in a daze, his mind blank from the revelation, moving down the stairs and back to his own floor. It feels surreal in a way that Keith can’t figure out how to fathom, and his mind is stuck in this reality and Keith is at his door before he realizes it.

He doesn’t remember opening the door, closing it, putting his keys down on the counter, and going straight to the kitchen. He sort of remembers opening the cabinet and reaching for the Zzzquil and taking a large swig of it. He kind of remembers the walk to his room, reaching for his phone on the nightstand and mindlessly scrolling to his sleeping playlist, and reaching for the small portable stereo he keeps. He turns it on and the flow of soft music begins, normally soothing and smoothing over the rough edges of the day, but it hardly registers anything beyond sound for Keith.

He burrows into the blankets, pulling it up to his chin, and goes to sleep.

\--

It’s been two weeks since Shiro has shown up at the coffee shop, the same amount of time that Keith has not been to _blackli_ — _Shiro’s_ cam page, unable to bring himself to look at porn or else he will be reminded of who he’s been jerking off to for the last two months. The mortification has clung to Keith, sticky and thick on the underside of his shoes that makes it hard to navigate without it constantly reminding him of its existence. Embarrassment leans heavily on his back, centered between his shoulder blades, and forcing Keith to drag it around wherever he goes.

It leads to Keith constantly checking his surroundings, on the lookout for Shiro, hoping that he won’t cross paths with the taller man and face the embarrassment, but at the same time, wanting to be able to see Shiro. It’s a conflicting concoction of emotions that leaves Keith confused and anxious in a way he didn’t think could happen.

It’s not that his attraction to Shiro has disappeared, it’s remained relatively unaffected except whenever he thinks about Shiro, it inevitably comes back to the fact that Keith knows the more intimate details of Shiro’s body because he discovered that Shiro has been camming for five years. It also leads down a rabbit hole of questions that Keith wants to ask, but the most pressing one is why does Shiro choose to live in such a shitty apartment when he must be making a ton of money from camming? Maybe Shiro’s camming is providing him the money to get through college. He thinks about three million followers tipping Shiro at least one dollar and his mind blanks out at how much money Shiro could be making.

All because he shows his dick to people.

Okay, that’s from a small part of Keith that is a little jealous that Shiro doesn’t have to work a shitty job and deal with shitty people to make enough money to get by, that Shiro’s student loans are probably going to be easily paid off with so much extra money left over. It’s not fair to judge Shiro for finding revenue in the porn industry, he’s doing something Keith supposes he likes, and while that’s not exactly the avenue Keith would take to make money, Keith would love to do something that would bring in that amount of money from something he liked doing. Keith could protest what Shiro is doing if it were breaking laws, if it were revealed that Shiro was selling hard drugs like heroin or opioids on the side, peddling illegal gambling, doing black market organ auctions—then Keith could judge Shiro, but camming isn’t illegal.

Hunk eventually notices a change in his attitude and ends up trying to subtly, which doesn’t work as well as Hunk thinks it does, ask Keith about what happened and why he’s so jumpy. He notices that Shiro hasn’t come around the coffee shop in awhile, that Keith is watching the door more than he normally does.

“Did something happen between you and Shiro?”

Keith shifts, trying to further bury himself into making an absurd coffee order, pointedly not saying anything.

Hunk draws out Keith’s name in a prodding tone.

Keith presses down harder on the caramel syrup pump.

Hunk’s eyes squint and his lips push out, making a suspicious sound. “You guys broke up, didn’t you? I thought he was the one for you?”

“Can it, Hunk. Nothing happened.”

“Oh, so you admit that something may have happened?”

“I’m not talking about this.”

In truth, Keith is too embarrassed to talk about what happened with anyone. He’s also sure that Shiro may not want his identity to be revealed even though Keith isn’t sure that Hunk even watches porn.

“If you need to get something off your chest—”

“You’re not about to goad me into talking about it. It’s my business, I’ll handle it.”

“Um, dude, you’ve been watching the door like a hawk for the last two weeks, that doesn’t sound like handling it.”

Keith places the coffee on the counter, calling out for the person to get their coffee, choosing to ignore Hunk.

\--

There’s an increase in texts from Lance, as well as Pidge, all prodding him over what is happening to him and why he’s even more gloomy. Lance points out Keith is more sullen and less to respond to his lame jokes, which Keith files away later to let Lance know that he has admitted that his jokes are lame, but it’s mostly to cheer Keith up. He doesn’t quite harp as much on Keith’s hair, spends less time trying to make fun of Keith’s fashion choices, an action that seems considerate coming from Lance.

Pidge notes that he’s more skittish than usual, that he’s looking over his shoulder too much, that everything is causing him too much suspicion.

“Did you do something illegal?”

“No, Pidge.”

“I mean, for real, am I gonna wake up to a bat breaking my kneecaps?”

“Nothing has happened.”

What’s even odder is that Keith gets texts from Allura—who somehow got his number, but Keith thinks Lance was the one who gave her it—who is now part of his small friends group for whatever reason Lance was able to convince her with. Lance has been doing all he can to get Allura to notice him and so far, it seems to be working, which is a surprise.

Allura (sent: 17:54, Tue, 02 Feb):  
_Lance has asked me to talk you._

Keith (sent: 17:56, Tue, 02 Feb):  
_he sent you to get answers huh_

Allura (sent: 17:59, Tue, 02 Feb):  
_Well, I am concerned and would like to help._

Keith (sent: 18:01. Tue, 02 Feb):  
_well i appreciate that but i got it_

Allura (sent: 18:02, Tue, 02 Feb):  
_If you’re sure, then alright.  
_ _Lance will be disappointed but I value your privacy._

Keith (sent: 18:03, Tue, 02 Feb):  
_thanks_

Keith is about to put his phone away when Allura sends him another message.

Allura (sent: 18:06, Tue, 02 Feb):  
_I also asked because Shiro is moping around and it’s sad.  
_ _He needs to man up and talk to you._

Oh.

Keith’s mind blanks when he finishes reading that message.

Allura… knows Shiro? How did this never come up?

Instead, Keith decides to walk around his apartment, visiting every room and standing in the doorway, staring at nothing in particular. He does this for a little while, his mind trying but failing to understand what is happening.

His phone pings, calling Keith back into his room.

Allura (sent: 18:22, Tue, 02 Feb):  
_I’m assuming by your lack of response you weren’t expecting this._

Understatement of the year.

It takes Keith a greater effort than he’s willing to admit to pick up his phone and conjure words to create a feasible response. It takes some conscious thinking to will his fingers into translating his thoughts into words.

Keith (sent: 18:24, Tue, 02 Feb):  
_i didn’t know you knew shiro_

Allura (sent: 18:24, Tue, 02 Feb):  
_You never asked._

Okay, that’s fair.

Keith (sent: 18:29, Tue, 02 Feb):  
_so...  
_ _how do you know shiro?_

It takes a while for Allura to respond, but she’s probably choosing which piece of information she wants to share with him.

Allura (sent: 18:36, Tue, 02 Feb):  
_I’ve known Shiro for many years. I had moved to the U.S. because my father needed to transfer to the American branch of the company to manage some projects, and I met Shiro as I was starting middle school. He was my first friend in America and did what he could to make me feel welcome. People said we would make a good couple, but he had told me that he saw me as a friend. I was the first person he came out to as gay, and I’ve been honored to be someone he trusts._

Keith rereads over the piece of information that Allura has given him, thinking about a Shiro in middle school meeting Allura. It falls in line with what he’s seen from Shiro, who has been gentle and compassionate, as well as understanding from the small encounters that Keith has had with Shiro. It’s nice to know that Shiro wasn’t pretending to be something he’s not, that he isn’t like those insufferable fratboys who play it nice until they get what they need. However, Keith doesn’t know if Shiro is a fratboy, but Keith uses the comparison since it makes the most sense in his mind.

Keith (sent: 18:38, Tue, 02 Feb):  
_it’s GOOD to know shiro is so nice_

Allura (sent: 18:41, Tue, 02 Feb):  
_Well, I do hope you two work out what happened.  
_ _Especially since Lance is convinced about your interest in Shiro._

Life really keeps dropping bombs on him until there won’t be anything left of him to be destroyed.

Keith’s mouth drops in realization, and then in shock, when what Allura says clicks.

Keith knows Lance, who has been trying to wingman for him and set him up with Shiro, which in all honesty, Lance hasn’t put any effort in actually trying to be a wingman. Keith suspects Lance just likes the title and wants the benefits, if there are any, to be able to say that he set Keith up with someone. In turn, Lance knows Allura, who has been trying to build up the confidence to ask her out on a date for months, and has introduced her into their friends circle, befriending Hunk, and in turn, associating with Keith and becoming, not quite but getting close to friends. Allura has known Shiro for years and apparently is one of his friends. Lance has been telling Allura about his attraction to Shiro to Allura, likely trying to convince Allura to join in his wingman “activities”.

Keith doesn’t know if Lance knows that Allura is friends with Shiro, but based on the lack of Lance’s response, he assumes Lance doesn’t isn’t aware of it.

Oh.

She may have let Shiro know about his crush on him.

Keith lets his phone lower into his lap, fingers still grasping it as he stares out into his apartment, blinking, trying to understand why so much is happening.

He brings his phone back up, looking at the screen in hopes that what he read was just joking.

The last message from Allura is still there.

So, this is not a joke.

Keith is hesitant to send his next response.

Keith (sent: 18:46, Tue, 02 Feb):  
_does shiro know?_

It feels surreal to be asking that. There’s also the fact that Keith is admitting to his crush after weeks of denial and associating his attraction to his lack of relationships because of how much school work he has (in actuality, he just hasn’t found anyone interesting enough to pursue them but it’s easier to use this as an excuse) and his job. Keith believes his lack of free time wouldn’t let his relationships flourish and he’d rather not make someone feel like they can’t get much of his time since it’s subjected to his responsibilities more than anything else.

Allura (sent: 18:48, Tue, 02 Feb):  
_Don’t worry, I didn’t tell him anything :)_

A weight slides off Keith’s shoulders, sagging with relief.

At least Allura is sort of an ally he can trust.

Allura (sent: 18: 49, Tue, 02 Feb):  
_I would never do that to you.  
_ _You can trust me on this._

\--

Keith is watching the clock, counting down how much time he has left on his shift which is only half an hour, but he watches the clock to make sure it doesn’t try to slow down like it normally tries to when his shift is nearing its end. Hunk stands on the other side of the counter, fiddling around with the pastry display, wanting to make it look absolutely impeccable, trying out different placements and arrangements to draw more attention to them. Hunk sometimes complains about so many good pastries going to waste that don’t deserve that kind of fate.

Keith is leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets, still watching the clock and huffs, wanting it to go faster when the door opens and almost gets a groan from him. He’s so close to freedom, he doesn’t want a wave of customers to come through and force him to stay any longer, but people seem to love squeezing themselves into the last few moments. Why it would be different this time when there’s always evidence that this will continue to happen, Keith doesn’t know why, but he can’t help but hope sometimes.

Keith looks up, pushing off the wall and assuming his position at the cash register, readying his regular customer greeting when that greeting immediately retreats back into his throat so fast that it nearly chokes him.

It’s Shiro who has walked into the shop.

“Oh shit,” is whispered from Hunk, loud enough for Keith to hear.

Keith can only stare back at Shiro as the other man stares at him. Shiro blinks, steps forward and halts for a moment as though he’s hesitating on continuing. Keith blinks in return, standing in place as he’s unable to make himself do anything, rooted through their last encounter coming up in his memories, that horrified embarrassment trying to saturate his blood again.

Today, Shiro wears a red long-sleeved shirt that’s been pushed up to the elbows, allowing his forearms to display the prominent veins that circle around them. It shapes along Shiro’s chest, gives the subtle swell of his pecs (which, Keith notes, seems to be a thing for the taller man), along his arms, lightly contouring to the muscles of his arm, where it looks like just one improperly timed flex will stretch and rip the material. A simple pair of black jeans adorns Shiro’s legs, tight in all the places Keith wants them to be, and a pair of white shoes helps to compliment the look.

Casual clothes just look so good on him and Keith can’t help but openly stare.

Here is Keith, in his barista apron, khaki pants, a maroon-colored button up shirt, and an ugly hat.

He feels like a Great Value brand while Shiro is a Gucci line.

Shiro stops in front of the counter, his hand hesitating before it raises, a hint of an apologetic look forming on his face. He waves his hand in a stilted manner before he realizes it must not look very good and drops it.

“Hi,” he opts for instead.

Keith realizes he has to say something back. “Uh. Hi.”

This is terrible.

“Okay!” Both Shiro and Keith snap their heads toward the sound of that voice, looking at Hunk. His hands are raised in an, _“I give up”_ gesture before they drop. “Both of you,” Hunk raises one arm to point at them, “in there,” and he directs his finger toward the break room.

Keith makes a face.

“Nuh-uh,” Hunk shakes his head. “I can see that both of you need to talk, so consider this getting off early, Keith. I can handle the rest of the shift. There’s literally, like, twenty minutes left.”

Keith crosses his arms, tilting his head to give Hunk a deadpan stare.

“Shoo, shoo,” his arms raise again as Hunk leans forward and flaps his hands, trying to usher them out and into the breakroom. _“Shoo!”_

Keith doesn’t move, deciding if he wants to be stubborn but it’s Shiro who interrupts with, “I guess we should.”

Keith sighs and begins advancing to the breakroom as Hunk brings Shiro over. Keith turns around in the doorway, leveling his co-worker with a stare. Hunk raises his arms in a placating manner. “I swear, I won’t listen. Scout’s honor!” and Hunk performs a mock salute.

The door shuts behind them.

Keith walks to the small round table in the room, pulling out one of the chairs to it, and sits down a little heavier than he intended. Shiro follows suit, pulling out a chair and sitting across from Keith.

It’s quiet, neither of them saying anything, letting the silence push on as both wait for the other to break the silence, unwilling to take the first step. It only leads to the atmosphere becoming even more tense the longer they both decide not to act. It’s the replay of events passed that neither seem to want to bring up, at least for Keith, and the knowledge of that going on for weeks still creates a shudder of embarrassment up his spine.

Shiro inhales, the sound of it loud within the room, and squares Keith with a dead-on look.

“So, you’ve seen my videos.”

Keith groans, still unable to handle the knowledge of it, but hearing it out loud makes it worse. Keith’s head drops and he places his forehead against the table, letting out another groan.

“I didn’t know they were you,” he says, against the table.

The smaller man pulls back, forehead dragging against the table until he’s sitting up but his head is still tilted down for a moment. It takes a brief moment before Keith raises his head, knowing he can’t escape looking at Shiro, knowing he has to muster some kind of courage if he’s going to make it through this conversation.

“I just… I didn’t know it was you.” Keith really doesn't know what else to say, stuck on emphasizing that as much as possible.

Shiro looks contemplative, his brows coming together, a crease lightly forming between, as he leans back in his chair, hands in his lap. He doesn’t answer for a moment and it leaves Keith to draw doubt from the silence, thinking that maybe Keith was never supposed to know Shiro’s identity and that it’s possible his identity will get out. Keith has turned that thought over constantly in his mind, has looked at it from all perspectives he can think of, all of which have led to a negative outcome. Keith’s a pragmatic thinker, he’s more concerned about the realism of a situation, he doesn’t believe in entertaining what- if situations, he doesn’t spend time trying to soften the edges and dress it up with sweet words.

Keith has spent more time trying to think about this as an approach akin to a business thinking: could camming threaten his professional life? Keith has thought about this, many of his nights spent thinking about the possibilities, trying to understand what kind of impacts it could have to Shiro’s ability to be hired. Keith has considered that he’s probably overthinking it, that Shiro’s identity is pretty well concealed, and Keith is freaking out for no reason but how can Keith let this pass when he just found out he’s been jerking off to Shiro for weeks?

The very person he was trying to bury the attraction for was spent getting off to the very subjective he was trying to avoid.

“Does it… bother you?”

Keith’s voice is a little too tentative but he needs to take this slowly and makes sure Shiro isn’t uncomfortable about him knowing his identity.

Shiro’s head tilts. “Bother me?”

“Yeah,” Keith winces a little, “I’d assume that me knowing who you are could be bad.”

“I never did say that.”

“Why not? If you’re uncomfortable that I know you’re _blacklion_ —”

“Wait,” Shiro holds up a hand, effectively cutting Keith’s sentence, “why would I be uncomfortable?”

Keith frowns. “I know your identity—”

“Keith,” Shiro’s voice soften, “how could I be uncomfortable knowing you watch my videos? I have a few million other people watching me get off or fucking some random guy. Do you think I’d be uncomfortable with you watching me? Sure, it’s a little surreal meeting someone who knows what my dick looks like and I never expected that to happen. Which, sure, I should since a lot of people do watch my channel but having someone know who I am had be taken aback a little, but uncomfortable? Not really.”

Keith leans forward, elbows resting on his knees and, “I thought me knowing who you are would, I don’t know, somehow threaten your professional life?”

The other man’s brows come together again. “Threaten… my professional life? What do you mean?”

“Like,” and Keith raises one of his arms, hand gesturing vaguely, “if someone found out who you are, and it somehow got out that you make money from porn. What if they don’t want to hire you?”

“Keith,” Shiro begins in a tone that’s trying to understand what he’s getting at, “how would anyone find out who I am? Do you plan to tell anyone?” The look Shiro gives Keith begins to turn serious.

“No!” is immediate from Keith.

“Then… how would people know?”

The smaller man slumps back into the chair. “Well, when you put it like that,” is more of a mutter. When Shiro explains it like that, in such simple terms which completely decimates everything Keith has tried to create in a complex notion, it does seem like Keith was freaking out over nothing.

“I don’t think my identity would get out, unless you’re saying you could accidentally tell someone.”

Keith nods, unwilling to trust his voice. He knows his mind is whining about how simple Shiro is making this, making his earlier fretting seem irrational, and that he can’t believe he spent so much time thinking about this in the worst of terms.

So much for pragmatic thinking.

“Were you really that concerned?”

Keith grunts.

“I’m not mad, Keith. I’m flattered you were worried about my identity getting out.” There’s a pause as Shiro shifts in chair, continuing with, “I’m also flattered that you were watching my videos. It is unexpected, I’m honestly surprised that you did.”

Oh, boy, here comes the heat. “I really didn’t know,” he says pointedly but a little subdued.

“And that’s okay,” Shiro assures him. “I’m happy my videos gave you what you were looking for.”

Shiro leans forward, placing his elbows onto the table. “Listen, Keith, I’m not uncomfortable that you watched my videos. I’m not ashamed of my body. I work hard to maintain it, and knowing that people like what I’m doing lets me know I’m doing a lot right. I do work out for me, I do what I can to stay in shape, and if people like the result? That makes me feel good to know my work is being noticed. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not looking to impress anyone.”

Keith sits up in his chair, eying Shiro. “So, you’re okay with me knowing you cam?”

“Let me tell you something: I don’t edit my own videos.”

That’s news to Keith. His eyebrows raise in question. “You don’t?”

Shiro laughs, the sound good-natured but also appealing to Keith.

“Nope. I just film it, and then I give it all to Allura.”

“Allura?”

“Yep. She’s actually majoring in film production, and this is like practice for her.”

That’s also why Shiro’s videos stood out beyond all the other ones: the editing is _good_ , it’s so well put together and spliced, as well as lighting, when low music would be added to heighten the atmosphere. It was never that slow techno music a lot of porn would use, but it was actually artful sounds with pianos, violins, and other music that seemed to enhance the entire video. It was cut with a feeling of professionalism that made it hard to believe that Shiro didn’t have a major studio backing him.

“So, I let her take the footage and piece it together. She actually has a couple of cameras filming so that way when she has to cut up the footage and edit it, she can take the sound for it so it’s not warped when she has to piece it together—” Keith gets lost in Shiro explaining the technical side of what goes on in editing porn, but he nods like he understands.

“She’s good-natured about it, and actually said she was going to. I didn’t even ask her to do it, she just said one day that she’s going to take over editing management and all creative liberties. She’s the one who’s seen my dick more than anyone.”

The reminiscing causes Shiro to laugh. “She’s not attracted to me, telling me upfront about it. She said, _“I may be bisexual, but that doesn’t mean I’m automatically attracted to every man I see,”_ and she still insisted.”

“Anyways,” Shiro clears his throat, “this has honestly helped me with my body.”

“Really?”

Shiro turns his head away, looking at the wall, “I had an accident when I was nineteen. Car completely ran me and my family off the road. Drunk driver, way over the limit. We ended up smashed against a tree, but the guy careened into the middle of the street and hit another car in the read. I was on the side pinned against the tree.” He breathes in deeply and Keith can tell that the other man is trying to work through the memories that must be coming back.

“They couldn’t save my arm. I had a lot of injuries that turned into scars. I hated how I looked for a while. I felt like people could see that damage done and didn’t want to associate with me. Allura really helped me through those times. She encouraged me to get back into things, to go to the gym, and it helped humanize the advice my therapist was giving me.”

Shiro’s head turns to look at Keith. “Allura’s family works in robotics. _Arus Industry Prosthetics_ is her family’s company, and they’re world-renowned for their technology. Allura offered to give me new prosthetics that were meant to be experimental trials. She said it wasn’t to “fix me” like other people thought I needed. I had an ex-boyfriend who was too concerned about my safety. His heart was in the right place, but he smothered my attempts at independence. He didn’t think I should push so hard, that I should be careful, but in the end, he lost sight of me being my own person. Eventually, we broke up since we both had two different visions that couldn’t find common ground.”

Keith wants to reach out, he wants to give Shiro some kind of comfort but he knows these are events passed, there’s nothing he can do about them but that doesn’t stop him from wishing he was there to give Shiro support.

“Allura told me that if I wanted to, I could accept an experimental prosthetic her family was working on. I thought she was trying to hide the pity she felt for me by offering me an arm, but she had made sure to tell me that she didn’t view me as broken. But she wanted to give me independence, to not have to rely on people, to show that I could bounce back. She wanted to make sure the college didn’t kick me out, that I wouldn’t lose internships—she gave me immunity to all these industries from trying to cut me because I lost my arm. With Arus’ signature on it, these companies took one look at it and knew that if they denied me, they’d face such a powerful company behind me and they could lose their business her father’s company. You would be surprised by how big Arus is in prosthetics, in manufacturing in general, and how much influence they have.”

Shiro chuckles. “Allura fought for me and decided no one was going to deny me because of this. She was determined to not let anyone see me as a hindrance. She’s a good friend that I would never want to lose. She was even the first person I came out as gay to.”

There’s a smile that begins to grace Keith’s mouth.

“But it wasn’t Allura that convinced me to get into camming. It was a whim, and I ended up using it to come to terms with my body. Knowing that people found me attractive even with the scars was good for me. I kept going to the gym, I kept working on myself, and it eventually started to get noticed. It was a confidence booster. I worked relentlessly the first year, I made a lot of videos, trying to figure out what worked best. It did pay off, and now I only have to make a video or two a month. I make plenty of money off it but I do enjoy it.”

Right, Keith had forgotten that he was getting off to Shiro’s body.

The embarrassment comes back in full force.

He sighs, a somewhat miserable thing “I just—I really didn’t know.”

“You keep saying that like it’s a bad thing. Really, Keith, I’m flattered that you find me attractive. I can say that I may have thought about you during some of the videos I made.”

What?

Wait.

Huh?

Keith’s face goes slack in shock, mouth agape.

Shiro leans back in his chair, hands coming up behind his head, and looking at Keith expectantly.

Keith raises his head, back straightening as his mouth opens but nothing comes out. He is at a complete loss of what he should say, or even do. There’s just been too many things happening at once, all clamoring for Keith’s attention that leave him unable to fully process them. His attention keeps getting pulled into so many directions that he can’t fully figure out what is supposed to be happening.

“You…” Keith finally finds his voice, “you thought of me… during…”

Shiro lets his arms fall into his lap, nodding his head. “I thought it was only fair to tell you.”

How is that fair?

“I didn’t expect much when I came to this coffee shop, I’m not that into coffee, but I needed something to stay awake and study, but when I came into this coffee shop, I saw you.”

Oh, no, please, don’t let Keith’s face show the flush that’s trying to creep up his neck.

“You were honestly so cute, and I thought about how much I’d like to see you under me.”

Keith’s mind wheezes.

“I mean,” Shiro scrambles, seemingly losing the collected cool he had over himself, leaning forward and his arms raising like he was anticipating catching something, which isn’t too far from the truth since Keith feels like he’s about to keel over. He’d like Shiro to catch him so he doesn’t eat shit when he lands. 

“I just—I thought you might want to know what was on my mind? It’s only fair since you’ve told me… Did I make it worse?”

Keith nods.

“Oh,” Shiro runs a hand over his face, halting at the top of his head, “I didn’t think it was—I didn’t mean to make it worse.”

The silence is tense, and Keith is trying to work through the symphony of emotions that are trying to request his attention, each having their own crescendo. Keith doesn’t know how he’s supposed to feel about this, he’s still processing knowing what Shiro’s dick looks like.

Shiro drops his arm, leaning forward as both hands come up to rest on his knees, elbows pushing out as Shiro hunches over his lap for a moment, clearly thinking of some way to navigate the situation before he leans back, elbows tucking in.

“I thought… I thought since you knew who I was and that, what I’m assuming, you found me attractive that it would only be fair to be truthful about my attraction to you? Was I really reading everything so wrong?” Shiro tilts his head away as though he’s trying to hide the blush that’s highlighting itself across the bridge of his nose. “This is going much worse than I imagined.”

The taller man continues to not look at the other man, more than likely going over everything that went wrong in this conversation that allows Keith to try to recollect himself. He shifts in his chair, looking for a distraction from the conversation at hand and how his own feelings are experiencing too many shocks of truth in the last ten minutes. He needs to say something; he needs to interrupt this awkward silence because Keith hates it more than anything since it’s allowing him to dwell on his feelings. He can think about everything that can go wrong, he can think about everything he should have done, he can think about whatever he wants that could have prevented this, but none of that matters since they’re in the past and will do nothing for him now.

He lets out a breath that draws Shiro’s eyes to him.

“Okay,” Keith starts, trying to psyche himself up, “I think… I think we should have a do over.”

The other man’s brows raise.

“Clearly this talk is going into all kinds of wrong directions, and we’re getting nowhere with them. We should… start over, get a better start.”

“Yeah,” Shiro nods, “yeah, that’s good. I can—we can do that.”

Keith nods back, sitting up straighter, his hands in his lap, and continues to convince himself to hold eye contact with Shiro. It takes a quick but deep breath for Keith to continue.

Shiro tries to lighten the mood, an awkward smile on his mouth when he says, “I can’t believe that I do porn and _I’m_ getting embarrassed.”

A laugh bubbles up in Keith’s throat too fast for him to stop.

The responding smile on Shiro’s face is tentative.

“Alright,” Keith tries, “so… you,” and Keith winces a little, “thought of me during…”

“Yeah.”

The blush is trying to come back and Keith can barely get through his words, so this seems like a conversation that needs to be eased into and at another time.

“I think… maybe that should be a topic for a different time, but,” and Keith needs a moment to gather the words on his tongue, “we should go somewhere and have that… do over.”

Way to sound confident, Keith.

There’s a look of surprise on Shiro’s face, clearly not expecting that.

“You mean… kind of like a da—”

“Yes, I mean that,” Keith hurries, wanting to skip over the embarrassment trying to rear its head again.

“Oh.”

Oh? Just “ _oh”_? Did Keith read the signals wrong?

Shiro lets his back press against the chair, thinking over what he’s supposed to do or say as Keith watches in anticipation, trying to keep his teeth from chewing on his bottom lip.

“I think… that would be good.”

The anticipation cracks and splinters, the drop of it so fast that it almost leaves Keith winded with the amount of relief that fills his body.

The conversation stilts a little before Shiro says, “I’m glad we had this… talk.”

“If you can call that a talk,” is a little deadpan from Keith, but his body is unfurling from the awkwardness, glad that it’s beginning to end. Keith huffs and lets his arms cross in front of his chest, still trying to create a defense for the residual embarrassment, wanting it to be over and out of his system.

“So,” the larger man begins, “where would you like to go?”

It takes a moment for Keith to register that Shiro is asking him about the date—holy shit, Keith actually did ask him out on a date, that wasn’t some fever hallucination that happened suddenly and without any provoking, and it’s starting to settle in that he really did do that. Keith doesn’t have time to dwell on it and ask himself how he was able to do that, not when Shiro is expecting him to answer back, as well as under the impression that they are actually about to go out on a date.

Keith hadn’t actually thought that far into it.

“I… I actually didn’t think I’d get this far.”

A laugh bursts from Shiro’s throat, his eyes crinkling at the corners that Keith finds to be endearing.

“Okay, okay,” Shiro says after the laugh has passed, “I guess we can start slow. How about,” Shiro’s hand come up to grasp at his chin, “how about the steakhouse that’s about twenty minutes from here?”

“Wait,” Keith squints, “you want us to have a do over at a steakhouse?”

“It’s a date, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d choose there, of all places.”

“What’s wrong with steak?”

“I didn’t think you’d go for that.”

“Well, it’s a good place.”

“Isn’t it expensive?”

“You really don’t know how much money I make from camming, do you?”

“Fair enough.”

\--

It’s only fifteen minutes past Keith’s shift ending when he and Shiro leave the breakroom, and the baristas that are scheduled to take over for Keith look at him, confused, about to ask why he’s still here when they see Shiro come out.

“Did you guys fuck back there? You know that’s not coo—”

“No, we had a talk,” Shiro takes over, his voice gentle.

They look suspicious but Keith sighs, eyes closing briefly. “We didn’t do anything, you’re fine to go back there.”

\--

Lance (sent: 12:02, Fri, 04 Feb):  
_did you and shiro make up yet???_

Lance (sent: 12:03, Fri, 04 Feb):  
_keith  
_ _keith_  
keith  
keith  
keith  
keith

Lance sends a wall of text that consists of his name for the next several minutes to get his attention.

Keith (sent: 12:08, Fri, 04 Feb):  
_none of your business_

Lance (sent: 12:09, Fri, 04 Feb):  
_how can you say that  
_ _you know i’m looking out for you_

Lance (sent: 12:11, Fri, 04 Feb):  
_did you get a date tho?  
_ _i need to know if my wingman skills paid off_

Keith (sent: 12:15, Fri, 04 Feb):  
[ img.png ](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/a5/d9/86/a5d986d345bbebd2530d4de421198078.jpg)

Lance (sent: 12:17, Fri, 04 Feb):  
_why are you so hard to please what did life do to you?_

\--

“I have a question.”

Shiro glances at him.

“You make a lot of money from camming?”

“Yes, I’ve mentioned that before.”

“Then why do you stay in such a shitty apartment? I know they suck, I live in them, too.”

“A friend was letting me stay there.”

Keith is skeptical. “A friend? Do they live there, too? Do they know what you're doing in there?”

Shiro just smiles, not elaborating on anything Keith asked.

“Don’t you have an apartment somewhere?”

“I do, but the building is having some renovations and cut off the plumbing.”

\--

The date is hugely successful, although Keith winced when he saw the price of their meal on the bill, but Shiro assured him that it’s fine.

\--

“So, do you want to have the real thing?”

Keith is lifting a bottle of apple tea to his mouth and glances at Shiro. “The real thing?”

“I want to fuck you.”

Keith chokes on his drink, spilling out of his mouth and down his chin, some of it going back into the bottle and all over his fingers. Shiro scrambles to help Keith recover, patting Keith on the back and taking the bottle from him to sit it down as Keith hunches over, pounding on his chest to get the apple tea out of his lungs. His lungs burn for oxygen but keep rejecting his efforts to breathe which makes it difficult for Keith to get himself back together.

“Are you okay?” Shiro asks, voice full of concern, when Keith has stopped choking on his apple tea.

“Yeah,” is a rasping answer.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to spring that on you so fast.”

Keith beats on his chest with his fist a few more times, clearing his throat his throat a few more times, straightening his back and breathing in once more to make sure he can breathe.

His mind decides it’s the perfect time to bring up Shiro’s statement.

Keith turns his head to look at Shiro, eyes narrowing. “Did you just offer to have sex with me?”

“Yes?”

“Why is that a question?”

“I thought you may be interested cause of, you know, the whole “watching my videos” thing that started all of this.”

A breath from Keith before, “I don’t want you to feel like you’re obligated to have sex with me.”

“Why would I feel obligated? I like you, Keith.”

Keith swats his hand in an effort to ward off whatever sappy confessions he’s thinking of sharing, a flush trying to settle into his pores that has Shiro grinning.

“What I mean is, I’ve heard of people dating porn stars and they expect sex. I don’t want you to feel like you owe me sex, or that just because you do cam stuff means that you’re always open for sex.”

“Keith,” Shiro steps in front of the smaller man, bending forward and getting eye level with him, hands coming up to cup Keith’s face. It’s a sensation that’s always a little odd, the feeling of soft, warm skin on one side of Keith’s face, and the cool metal feeling on the other side, creating a contrast that’s as odd as it is unique.

“I never expected you to demand sex from me. You’ve been nothing but sweet,” Keith turns his eyes away, moving his face but Shiro firms his hold, smiling at Keith’s reaction, “to me, and not once have you brought up an expectation for me to have sex with you. I appreciate that you’re interested in me, long before you even knew about _blacklion_.”

Keith groans, still not used to someone trying to shower him with affection, not ready to be sappy so early into their relationship—they’ve only had a couple of dates so far, and their talk back in the coffee shop was only a week prior. Yet, Shiro is acting like they’ve been dating for years and is very comfortable with showing affection that Keith is hesitant to be as public about it. Keith isn’t uncomfortable with affection, it’s just he has to ease into it, not quite comfortable with giving it so freely, needing time to get used to it first, but Shiro is a very physical person, he’s learned, and doesn’t think twice about giving him a gesture of affection.

However, Shiro’s displays of affection are much different than what Keith is used to: a hand on the shoulder, between his shoulder blades, just wanting to be close to him, even an arm around his neck and proceeding to walk like that. Shiro is about physical gestures and sure, he likes to give Keith kisses, but he’ll also lean on Keith and rest his cheek on top of Keith’s head.

“That tells me you’ve liked me before knowing what I do, so I don’t doubt you, but do know that I want to fuck you, I want to have you at my mercy—” okay, Shiro is blunt and Keith forgot he’s a professional dirty talker and likes to be a dom, okay, okay, _okay_ , “—but I wanted to make sure you were okay with it.”

How thoughtful, Shiro asking if Keith wants to choke on his dick.

Keith keeps his eyes to the side until Shiro maneuvers his face until he is looking at Shiro.

Keith huffs, watching it rustle Shiro’s bangs. “I still don’t want you to feel obligated.”

“I’m telling you that I’m not.”

Keith stares into the other man’s eyes, searching for any reason that may be covering doubt, before he finally acquiesces.

“I do want to, but I just didn’t want to assume.”

“Like I said, it’s okay.”

\--

Shiro insists on getting a hotel.

“I can’t apologize enough.”

“It’s fine, Shiro.”

“I still feel bad that I kept you up a few nights.”

“It’s fi—”

“You marching up to my apartment to tell me to stop says otherwise.”

It’s a really nice hotel, much more than what Keith would ever think they would need just to have sex in, but Shiro, as he’s learned, loves to spend money on people he cares about. While the poor college student in Keith is ready to bask in that, another part of Keith feels guilty about Shiro spending so much money on him.

He even feels guilt toward the hotel they’re about to defile because it’s so expensive, taking soft and calculated steps around the room and afraid to touch anything since it could add onto Shiro’s bill. He almost gave into the urge to see the price of the hotel on the receipt but he knew in the end, it would only add to his guilt over how much Shiro is spending.

The room is large and lush and lavish, with a king size bed that Keith knows he and Shiro aren’t going to be leaving for a while.

He stands in the middle of the room, too busy staring at the mini fridge of alcohol, the size of the bathroom that may as well be half the size of his apartment. There’s a grand view of the city outside the window that’s almost a ceiling to floor window, when there are arms that encircle around his waist, pulling him back into a solid chest as Shiro curls around him, forcing Keith to lean forward a little. His face moves to lean against Keith’s over his shoulder.

Shiro’s eagerness is pressing into the small of Keith’s back that doesn’t hide how much Shiro is anticipating this.

“This room is ours for a few days,” comes deep from Shiro, mouth pressing against the shell of Keith’s ear, “and I don’t plan to let you leave this bed for a while.”

There’s arousal that sprawls within Keith’s stomach at those words, anticipating what Shiro plans to do, but…

He can’t stop thinking about how expensive the hotel is.

What if something breaks and then Shiro has to pay thousands of dollars?

“Keith, you’re thinking too hard.”

He turns his face to look at Shiro, causing the other man to laugh. “You have a serious look on your face.”

“It’s a really expensive hotel.”

“I know, I saw the receipt.”

“Are you sure you need to do this much?”

“Because I want to make sure that you’re happy? Yes.”

The smaller man shifts, still unsure, but with one of Shiro’s hands moving from around his waist to place the flat its palm on his lower stomach and drags up, the movement slow and calculated to build Keith’s anticipation. The hand moves over his throat, pressing into it and tilting Keith’s head up as Shiro’s thumb rests on one of the hinges of Keith’s jaw, lightly tracing along the skin. The movement successfully cages Keith in, making him unable to move or do anything.

“I don’t want you to think about the hotel.” Shiro drags his mouth along Keith’s exposed neck, lips lingering to pressing open-mouth kisses along the arch, pausing to say, “I want your attention on me,” before he lets his mouth move up Keith’s neck and to his ear, “I want you to give me everything.”

Keith inhales quickly, his body oddly pliant, feeling the caress of Shiro’s warm breath along his skin, goosebumps blooming and arching along his skin.


	4. 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is honestly just pure self-indulgence right here. There is no redeeming qualities here. This entire chapter is just porn.
> 
> Also, very gratuitous use of Shiro calling Keith a good boy and praising him.

“You’re so good for me,” is smeared against Keith’s neck, lips that paste the words along the skin, a span of hot breath that causes goosebumps to follow its path, and Keith almost gasps, barely remembering where he is, what his situation is, and why he really, really shouldn’t but—

But.

There’s those lips that close around the skin of his neck, right below Keith’s ears and sucks, drawing out another sound that crashes against the back of Keith’s teeth in an effort to escape.

“I knew you’d be good; I just knew it.”

This isn’t helping, it really isn’t, but Keith’s mind is slowly succumbing to the heated breath and lips along his skin, that voice surely wedging into the cracks that are advancing through the walls of Keith’s defenses. Shiro’s tongue presses flat against his neck, dragging hot and wet along the skin there, flourishing with a mouth closing around the muscle of Keith’s neck, dragging another piteous sound from Keith’s throat. Teeth close around the skin, pulling slightly to lay a mark there, lips closing around the area to suck, pulling on the blood underneath to pool beneath to emphasize the mark.

Keith’s head pushes back into the bedding as Shiro begins to mouth along his shoulder, his mouth opening to bring in the air his lungs are suddenly greedy for, allowing all those little sounds collecting in his throat to begin spilling along his tongue and out his mouth, panting, trying to at least cover them with the sound of his lungs working.

It doesn’t.

Shiro’s hand is pushing under his shirt, palm flat, spread out along his skin, and steadily advancing up and along Keith’s stomach, steadily pushing Keith’s shirt up with every movement. Shiro’s hand is so wide against his chest, almost spanning the width of it. Those fingers are moving upward, along his chest, over his ribs, stopping just in the middle of his chest, and resting next to Keith’s nipples. The anticipation of the touch has Keith’s chest pushing into it, but it’s with a little amount of force that Shiro exerts that keeps Keith pinned in place.

Shiro’s not done with giving his neck attention, not with the way his mouth slides on Keith’s skin, a hint of teeth against it before they’re replaced with wet suction before it’s soothed over with a tongue pressed flat against the area. They trail downward, finding the valley of Keith’s neck before they pull away. There’s a focus on the onyx-haired man’s neck, Shiro’s eyes surveying the marks he has spent so much time laying against the pale skin there, that represents a personified desire laid bare that Keith is powerless against its influence. Shiro is so preoccupied with the skin on Keith’s neck that it almost eclipses everything else that has been happening.

There is the hand that is still on Keith’s chest, his shirt pushed up and moved aside for thick fingers to trace along the skin that know what they plan to do. There is the push of Shiro’s body against his, the friction of jeans scraping against each other, dragging rough and coarse in a way Keith can’t find the pressure it gives him satisfying. There is Shiro, big and muscled, a wall of solid heat that beckons his attention, that refuses to allow him to look away and focus on anything else.

Keith doesn’t know how much of this he can really grasp onto, not with the liquidation of his common sense making a mess all around his body. It forces Keith to not really think about what his hands should be doing, what they could be doing, not with the way Shiro presses his fingers. 

Shiro leans back, allowing his hand to drag down Keith’s chest, across his stomach, pressing his fingertips against the skin to allow blunt nails to press into it, watching as it leaves light trails of red streaking across the skin. The taller man brings both arms to curl under Keith’s legs and bring him further down the bed until he’s seated in Shiro’s lap, maneuvering him into a position that he wants Keith to be in. He lets go to lean over Keith, his mouth sealing over Keith’s. Keith pushes up, trying to get further into Shiro’s mouth but he has to tear away when Shiro pushes his hips down to grind into Keith’s.

There’s a gasp that’s pushing into the small space between his and Shiro’s mouth that the larger man is more than happy to receive, swallowing it down and eating at the sounds trying to come out. His tongue insistent against Keith’s own, swirling around his, eager to continue to feed on Keith’s moans. 

Shiro swivels his hips, pushing and grinding into Keith’s, causing his arms to react, needing to reach for something and grip, curling around Shiro’s shoulder as one arm orients for his hand to grasp onto the back of Shiro’s head. Keith can’t wrap his arms completely around Shiro’s shoulders, but he settles for his hand to grip at Shiro’s neck, fingers clasping at where his shoulder and neck slope into each other, nails digging into the skin. Shiro moves one arm to put his weight on, pushing into the bed somewhere above Keith’s head as the other hand moves up his side, hand settling underneath Keith’s armpit for his thumb to rest on Keith’s nipple. 

Keith kisses Shiro harder, his mouth moving with more desperation as Shiro begins to rub his thumb along Keith’s nipple, lightly flicking his nail across it before he decides to move his hand to grip it between his thumb and forefinger. Shiro pulls back to look at Keith, but doesn’t go very far, watching a trail of spit connect them before snapping. 

“Is this mine?” Shiro whispers in a low voice with a roughened tone, emphasizing with a twist of his finger, and Keith is sure that the man above him can hear the sharp intake of breath. “Tell me, Keith, is this,” Shiro squeezes before rolling it, causing a hitch in Keith’s breathing, “ _mine_?”

His hips push into Keith’s harder so it pins Keith to the bed. Gunmetal stares intently into lilac, looking for an answer, not allowing Keith to move or look away with how his stare commands attention from the smaller man.

“ _Answer me_.”

Keith is unable to hold back, a litany of, “Yes, yes, yes, it’s yours, all yours,” but Keith doesn’t get any further as Shiro leans back, his other hand coming up to do the same action to his other nipple. 

“Is this one mine, too? Do these belong to me?” 

Shiro does a relentless assault, pulling and twisting and rubbing over Keith’s nipples without looking away from Keith.

“Yes, they are,” is so breathy from Keith and barely audible.

“I didn’t hear that.”

It takes a moment to gain back the sensibility to speak as Shiro tightens his fingers around Keith’s nipples, almost to the point of pain, for Keith to answer with a desperate, “All of it is yours, all of it.”

That satisfies Shiro enough, and he leans down to kiss at Keith’s neck, chaste but pressing his lips against the marked skin there, and let’s a husky tone infiltrate his words and presses, “You’re right, Keith. These are mine.” He trails down the smaller man’s neck, “But they’re not the only thing that’s mine,” and he sinks further down Keith’s body, hunching a little to do so. 

His mouth finds one of Keith’s nipples, the action causing Keith’s arms to fall from Shiro’s shoulders, deeming that gripping onto Shiro’s shoulders isn’t enough. Keith’s hands grasp onto the blankets as his chest inhales, pushing up as Shiro ducks his head to pull a nipple into his mouth. Shiro’s hand moves out of the way for his mouth and instead, slides down his side, elbow bending and tucking against his side as he wraps his hand around Keith’s hip. His mouth works at Keith’s nipple as his other hand works in tandem on the other. 

Shiro pulls back just enough to say, “I want you to come like this. I want to see if you can come from me playing with your nipples,” but Shiro continues to grind his hips into Keith’s, and his pants don’t hide how big Shiro is, pressing into Keith.

The larger man continues to work Keith over, listening to his shuddery gasps and high whines and breathy sighs, as the heat continues to build in Keith’s stomach. 

“I know you can, baby.” That term of endearment shakes Keith’s core. “I know you want to give me what I want. Do it, show me you can be a good boy and do what Daddy says,” and it’s _that_ term that causes the heat in his stomach to snap and rocket outward. His back arches and his head pushes into the bedding, mouth open and he gasps, fingers threatening to tear the sheets in his grasp.

“That’s it, baby, I knew you could do it. I knew you were a good boy.” Shiro pulls back to watch Keith come, slowing his hips to a minute grind, drawing out Keith’s orgasm. “I love when my baby can be good, and you know, good boys deserve to be rewarded.”

Shiro pulls his hand away from Keith’s nipple, moving it down, trailing along heated skin and quivering muscles, until he gets to the top of Keith’s jeans. He flicks it open before he grasps at the waistband and pulls it down. 

“I want to see how my baby did,” Shiro coos with a husky overtone, “I wanna know how good he did,” and Shiro slides Keith’s jeans and boxers down until they’re almost to Keith’s knees. 

A large hand touches against the smears of cum along Keith’s legs that were dragged with the removal of his pants. His hand wraps around the outside of one of Keith’s thighs as he drags his thumb across the smears of cum and gathering it onto his thumb. He lifts his hand and brings his thumb to Keith’s mouth, who opens to let Shiro press it inside and slide it along his tongue. Shiro makes an approving sound as Keith wraps his lips around it and sucks, tongue trying to lick off any cum left on Shiro’s thumb.

“See, baby? I knew you could do it.”

Shiro presses down on Keith’s tongue with his thumb, and Keith lets his mouth fall open, allowing Shiro to see. Shiro stares for a moment longer, pressing his thumb down harder and rubbing against it before he retracts it.

“Good boy.”

Keith had an idea that he liked it when Shiro would compliment the men he fucked, when he would lay gentle praise against their skin that would undo them faster than anything. Keith liked it when he saw how they were affected, how Shiro used it to make them malleable to his wishes, and how it let them easily play into his control of the situation. It’s one thing to fantasize about being praised, having that deep voice in his ear complimenting him, but it’s a completely different game when Shiro is laying down that praise on his skin. 

Every word of praise and encouragement serves to liquify his defenses that leaves all the soft and vulnerable pieces for Shiro to decide what he wants to do with them. Shiro gets to run his hand along the finer parts of his exposed soul and soothe over any and all parts that he deems need care and nurturing.

“I’m so proud of you, baby,” Shiro smears against Keith’s neck, trailing down, hands at Keith’s sides again and rubbing at the skin. Shiro’s mouth slides across his collarbones which Keith tries to arch into but Shiro’s hands find the handles of Keith’s hips and pins them, effectively hindering any of Keith’s movements.

“Did I say you could move?” Shiro says against his chest, raising his head to look at Keith. “Do you really want to disappoint me now after being good for so long?” The tone of it makes Keith shake his head.

A part of Keith wants to balk at that tone and resist, still not liking the idea of Shiro exerting so much control over him, but the majority of Keith does want to please Shiro and rejects the idea of disappointing him. Instead, Keith shakes his head again. Shiro raises an eyebrow in question.

“Use your words, Keith. I can’t understand you if you don’t answer me.” Shiro rubs his thumbs along the skin, his tone a little firm but the gentle movement conflicts with Shiro’s words.

Keith breathes, closing his eyes as he says, “I don’t want to disappoint you,” which makes Shiro smile and lean forward, hovering over Keith as he lays a chaste kiss on Keith’s forehead. He pulls back and sits back on his haunches as he keeps his hands encircled around Keith’s hips.

“See?” A smile graces Shiro’s face. “Was that so hard? Using your words will let me know how you feel, and I want to know,” Shiro lowers himself face hovering above the flat plane of Keith’s stomach, “how my baby’s feeling,” and he places a kiss there. Keith’s stomach tenses and he tries to not let out a giggle at how ticklish it is. 

It cuts off as Shiro runs the flat of his tongue across the skin, languid in its movement, and flourishing it with an open mouth kiss. 

The larger man leans back on his haunches again and grasps at the waistband of Keith’s pants, fingers pushing underneath. “Lift up for me.”

Keith doesn’t know if Shiro needs a command for everything, but he guesses it’s about making him feel comfortable, setting the tone for who is in control, and in turn, about him giving up his choice of will to Shiro. Keith doesn’t know anything about domming or what the rules are, but he supposes this is something related to it? 

Shiro pauses, pants around Keith’s knees. “How do you feel? Are you with me?”

The orgasm from earlier has made Keith pliant enough to let himself be handled by Shiro without protest, and he may have been drifting for a moment, not paying as much attention as he normally would. He shakes the thoughts from his head to refocus his attention.

“Yeah,” he nods, maintaining eye contact since Shiro has been making it a point that he does, “I’m good.”

Shiro nods back. “If anything becomes too much, I won’t be mad if you need a moment. In fact, I would rather stop if it’s making you uncomfortable.” Shiro removes Keith’s pants, throwing them somewhere away and out of sight to be forgotten. “Many people think they can’t say no to anything during a session because they “consented” to it by agreeing to have sex. They think they can’t back out or object because they think that anything goes, but it’s not that way. If someone you’re with doesn’t care about making sure you’re okay, they’re doing so much wrong and shouldn’t be allowed to be in charge of a scene.”

Shiro curls an arm under one of Keith’s legs and gets it on his shoulder and curls his arm around Keith’s thigh. He moves his face to kiss at the inside of the smaller male’s thigh. “I think everyone has the right to question what’s happening to them, that they can back out. There’s nothing wrong with stopping a scene, or sex in general that doesn’t feel right or makes you confused.” 

Shiro presses a kiss to Keith’s thigh again, feeling the minute trembling in the muscle, “I want you to be upfront with me.” He presses another kiss to the skin above the last kiss placement, letting his lips linger and closes his eyes for a brief moment before opening his eyes and slanting Keith a look. “I want to know when you think it’s too much and need a moment. I promise I won’t be mad.”

Knowing Shiro wants verbal confirmation, he answers with, “Yeah, I can do that.”

“Good.”

Shiro lets Keith’s thigh fall from his shoulder as he orients himself over Keith, boxing the smaller man in and staring down at him. Keith stares back up at him, lying there for Shiro to choose how he wants to do this.

Instead, Shiro gets a hand around Keith’s chin, thumb rubbing against the smaller man’s chin, the touch soft. Shiro tilts his head, surveying his thumb, as Keith lets his eyes go half-lidded, and opens his mouth for Shiro to decide if he wants to press his thumb inside. The larger man decides to lean down and connect his mouth with Keith’s, the kiss slow as he applies a gentle pressure for Keith to surrender to. 

He goes slow again, down Keith’s neck and over his chest to trail over his stomach. 

“You’re doing good, baby.”

Keith shudders at the praise but watches as Shiro moves down his body. 

Shiro orients himself, scooting back so he moves down. He lies down on his front and curls his arms around Keith’s thighs, moving Keith until he’s almost seated on Shiro’s shoulders. He releases one leg to prop himself up on an elbow, using the other arm to grip at Keith’s thighs. Shiro kisses at where the long-haired man’s leg connects to his pelvis before dragging his tongue along it and looking straight at Keith. 

Keith’s hips stutter, wanting to push against that mouth for more contact, but also wanting him to put that mouth somewhere else, preferably on his dick that has already started the process of hardening again. 

Shiro does it again but closes his mouth around the skin and sucks, pulling it into his mouth, making sure there will be a mark. Keith’s breath hitches, head falling back to stare at the ceiling before his eyes close. His elbows bend and push outward from his body as he grasps at the blankets, sure that he’s not supposed to reach out for Shiro as much as he would like to. 

The other man seems to take pity on him and trails his kisses from the area he’s lavishing attention on, steadily but slowly moving toward his dick, but he avoids making contact. Instead, he kisses around the skin surrounding the base of Keith’s dick, nosing at the hair there, trimmed and maintained because, while Keith doesn’t really shave, he does just enough self-care to keep himself tamed down there. 

“What do you want, Keith?” Shiro looks at Keith, mouth so close to his dick that Keith can feel Shiro’s warm breath fanning out along his skin. Shiro curls his other arm around Keith’s leg, hand coming up to grasp at Keith’s dick which causes a shudder to scrape its nails down his spine. He holds it close to the base and rubs his thumb along it. 

“Hm, actually, I do know what you want,” he says instead, gripping Keith tighter and causing him to tense, but Shiro’s gaze keeps Keith from looking away. “I always know what my baby wants, but how much does my baby want it?”

Keith grits his teeth, his fingers clenching into the sheets to keep himself grounded, but the amount of pressure Shiro is applying nearly forces his eyes shut. 

“What is it, Keith? Use your words.”

He sucks in a breath between gritted teeth but tries to loosen his jaw to say something, anything to let Shiro know that he wants more, he needs more than just the small amount of pressure he’s applying. 

“I want,” his head falls back, “you to do something.”

“You have to tell me. How can I know if it’s what you truly want?”

One of Keith’s legs loses its footing, sliding on the bed but his thigh is stopped when it falls on top of the larger man’s shoulder, but Shiro’s arm around it tightens akin to a warning.

“I…” he trails off, trying to get past the feeling of Shiro rubbing his thumb along his dick, applying some pressure behind the movement. “I want you to,” he turns his head away, “please s-suck my dick.” 

It’s one thing for Keith to have fantasies, where his imagination can conjure up any and all of his preferences, all of his closely held desires, and shameful lust for more extreme settings. The thing is, Keith doesn’t have to face them in reality where people can find out about them. His mind allows indulgence in a safe place where he controls them, and he doesn’t have to worry about someone discovering them. He can think about Shiro choking on his dick, fucking his face, feeling Shiro’s throat contract and gagging around him with ease. He can say all of the filthy things he wants to say to Shiro in his mind without having to think about them applied to real life.

But it’s a completely different story when he has to admit to them out loud where someone else is present to hear it, where his deepest fantasies can now be judged and that it could cast a different perception of his character. Having to face those fantasies as a reality isn’t something Keith was truly prepared for. He can listen to his mind try to dirty talk (in reality, his mind isn’t very good at it, and often flounders for something to say after he’s used the only three sentences that he hears the most in porn) but trying to do that in reality? It makes his face heat up and his mind flail a little and become embarrassed at the dialogue.

His mind saying, “That’s right, choke on my cock, you little slut,” when no one is around? Okay, that’s fine, no one has the chance to know what he said.

Saying anything related to cock out loud and with someone around to hear? Keith’s too embarrassed to look at himself in the mirror for half an hour.

He’s not some sheltered person who would balk at the mere mention of something that could be vaguely construed as sexual. Keith has sexual interests, he knows what he likes, but sometimes the things Keith is interested in makes him wonder why he’s into it.

Wanting to be called a slut and manhandled by big men poises Keith to ask what happened to him to make him like that? Not that there’s anything wrong with that, Keith just wants to know what event turned him on to that.

However, Shiro doesn’t need to know any of that just yet, it feels like it’s a little too early in their relationship to be discussing what turns him on.

Shiro hums, turning his head and placing a kiss against the head of his dick. “That’s good, Keith, very good,” and he lets warm breath flow over Keith’s cock, “I knew you could do it.”

He is not proud of the moan that tumbles from his mouth.

“I think you deserve a reward for letting Daddy know what his boy wants.”

God, Shiro keeps dropping that term like he’s testing the waters of Keith’s reception to it. It’s not something Keith envisioned himself being into, but Shiro seems to be looking to see what Keith is open to. Keith wouldn’t say he’s into daddy kink, but it has potential with him.

Shiro wraps his hand around Keith’s dick, gets a grip and maneuvers himself up to place his lips at the head. He gives it a kiss before blowing cool breath over, heightening Keith’s sensitivity, his legs trembling, fingers pulling on the sheets. Shiro leans forward to press the flat of his tongue against the bottom of the head and drags his tongue up and swipes over the top, running along the slit. He pulls back for a moment before wrapping his lips around the very top of Keith’s cock and slowly sinks forward enough to cover the head of Keith’s cock with his mouth.

He pulls back to look at Keith and lets out a low, “Don’t look away, I want you to see your reward.”

It takes some effort but Keith manages to abide by Shiro’s words, getting his elbows underneath him and raising up on them, stomach bending to allow him to sit up. His hands immediately grip into the blankets, arching somewhat off the bed and dragging the sheets with them not quite serving as the anchor Keith is looking for. The smaller man’s chest is heaving, his stomach concaving and tensing, as his mouth opens, and unable to keep itself closed.

“That’s a good boy. I know you want to be good for me, I can see how eager you are,” Shiro cranes his neck forward to drag his tongue up the head of his cock, watching as Keith’s eyes flutter, his face slackening in pleasure. Shiro slows his tongue to a near stop at the top but makes sure to press the tip of his tongue into the slit when he passes it. Keith’s arms tremble with the amount of force his hands grip at the sheets with, teeth gritting. 

Shiro spends time lavishing attention onto the head of his cock, continuing to wrap his lips around it, sucking, tonguing at the slit, but doesn’t move to take Keith into his throat. He’s building Keith up, focusing on the most sensitive part of his cock, but not increasing his pace, which only serves to build Keith’s mounting frustration. Keith is sure Shiro can feel his muscles tensing, his grip on Keith’s thigh tightening minutely when his leg shifts. 

Keith just wants Shiro to suck his cock—the whole thing, not just focus on the head of it—wants to wail out of frustration, but Shiro demands his attention. He wants Keith to watch his lips close around the head of his cock, watch those lips smear across the skin, see his tongue push against or into his slit, and watch the way his cock flushes with more color as time passes the longer he goes unfulfilled. Keith’s chest expands quickly, trying to keep himself under control, but it’s nearing to be an impossible feat when there’s so much tension coiled in his groin, his abs tensing in response to it, his fingers gripping at the sheets. His shoulders are shaking, raising minutely as he continues to tense, and Keith doesn’t know how much longer he can take of this.

“You’re doing so good for me, Keith, so, so good.” This time, Shiro repositions his hand to allow himself a path to lick upward on his cock and Keith’s mind almost whites out. Shiro goes slow, letting Keith feel the slow glide of his tongue, and pulls back once he swipes back over the head. He pulls back again as he begins to twist his hand, stroking Keith with a slow movement that has him trying to hold back strained whimpers. Shiro’s fist has some pressure behind the grip but it’s not enough. 

Keith knows Shiro has been purposely holding back, has done what he can to avoid really giving Keith what he wants. 

“I think it’s time I reward you for being such a good boy for me, baby.” There’s a gentle smile on Shiro’s face that Keith would melt for if he didn’t know the intent behind it. Keith intently watches as Shiro leans forward as he brings Keith’s cock to his lips, giving it a kiss on the head again, pulling back just enough to say, “I always reward when my baby is good for me.”

With that, Shiro leans forward, moving his hand away from Keith’s cock so he can swallow Keith down so fast and with ease that Keith almost shouts, the sounds stuttering in his throat, his moans interspaced with gasps that quickly morph into high whimpers at how sensitive he is from Shiro’s earlier ministrations. He can’t stop his head from tilting back, his eyes squeezing shut as he grits his teeth but it isn’t enough to stop the high whines.

Shiro’s hand is back on his dick, grabbing it and closing his fist around it as he takes his mouth off Keith, a trail of saliva connecting them briefly. 

“Did I say you could look away from me, Keith? Are you choosing to not listen to me?”

“N-no,” Keith’s eyes open with great effort as his hips hitch, looking for that wet heat that was taken from him so abruptly. There’s sweat beginning to run down his back, the heat inside his body becoming so much that his blood is in danger of boiling inside his veins.

“Are you sure? Do I need to see if my baby is ready to behave?” 

Keith’s eyes almost close but he stops himself in time, trying to muster the effort as his tongue has trouble trying to shape the sounds in his mouth. He takes a breath, trying to calm himself enough to make an answer.

“I-I’ll be good,” Keith inhales again, trying to keep himself coherent. “I can be good.”

Shiro smiles again, pleased with Keith’s response. “See? That’s my boy.”

Shiro takes Keith in slowly, licking at the head, swirling it around before centering it against the slit before closing his lips around it. He applies light suction before pulling away a small distance afterward, and pushes his neck forward to swallow Keith down, bobbing his head and hollowing his cheeks. Shiro presses his tongue against the shaft, listening to Keith’s breathing hitch and choke off on a moan, trying to keep the sounds to himself. He begins to bob his head all the while using one of his hands to rub at Keith’s thigh before he securely wraps his arms around the upper part of Keith’s legs and buries his face into Keith’s groin. 

Shiro pulls back, letting Keith’s dick fall from his mouth, but he unhooks one arm from around Keith’s thighs to stop it from falling onto Keith’s stomach. He regards Keith with a gentle expression, and his voice rasps with, “I think you’ve proven yourself to be very eager to follow what I say. As a reward, you can grab onto my hair and look away.”

With that, Shiro takes him into his mouth again, and Keith finally lays fully onto his back, the tension in his shoulders fading but seemingly reappearing in other parts of his body. His hands do seek out Shiro’s hair, and his back arches as his head pushes back into the bedding. His head tosses every so often, hair getting into his face and at times, strands in his mouth, but none of that matters when Shiro is trying to suck the soul out of his body through his dick

“S-Shiro,” he tries, his voice full of whimpers that makes it hard to navigate around, but he doesn’t know what he’s going to say. Shiro hums around him, an acknowledgement, but the vibrations travel quickly up his spine that creates a full body shudder for Keith. 

Keith can’t help but writhe under Shiro’s touch, firm but gentle, and so sure and self-confident that Keith hasn’t encountered this before. 

Shiro shoves his head down further until his nose is pressed to Keith’s groin, purposefully choking himself on Keith’s dick, gagging loudly into the room, but it’s the contractions in Shiro’s throat that close around Keith’s cock that makes him whine loudly. His fingers grip harder at Shiro’s hair, which causes another groan to escape Shiro. 

Keith is quickly approaching another orgasm, Shiro not pulling off and shoving Keith to the back of his throat that Keith feels again, gripping onto Shiro’s hair and pulling. 

“I’m—I’m gonna… _Shiro_ ,” is desperate from Keith, trying to warn Shiro, trying to tug on the other man’s hair to get him to lift up because Keith’s not sure what Shiro wants him to do. Does Shiro want Keith to come down his throat? Does Shiro want Keith to hold himself back? Whatever it is, he needs to find out soon before that choice is made for him and reprimanding words follow after.

“Shiro, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come,” but Shiro pulls back, which causes Keith’s hands to drop from Shiro’s hair, and the brink of his orgasm recedes back so violently that Keith shakes through it, his breath hitching into shudders. It feels like his world is being violently dismantled into a mess as the force of it shakes through him. 

There’s nothing like a severed orgasm to shake his foundation in a way Keith never thought to be possible.

“Keith, look at me.”

Unfocused violet eyes meet with ash-colored ones.

“That’s it, baby. Are you listening?”

Keith nods, the movement shaky.

Shiro’s head tilts back somewhat, an expectant look on his face before Keith realizes that he has to say it.

“Yes, yes, I’m listening.”

“Good, good,” Shiro says, nodding, “you know I like it when you use your words, right? I don’t want to have to keep telling you to, do I?” The tone is gentle but there is an underside to it where Shiro is telling him not to forget and disobey him.

“No, I don’t want to. I’ll be…” Keith has to taste how those words feel a little awkward on his tongue, “... I’ll be good. I can be good for you.”

Shiro’s hand rubs encouragingly along Keith’s thigh. “There’s my good baby that I love so much.”

He turns his head, “I want you to watch yourself come.” He licks a slow path up Keith’s dick while he keeps his eyes on Keith but doesn’t move away when he finishes, “I want you to look at me as you do.”

With that, Shiro goes back to swallowing Keith down, putting fervor into it that the smaller man can’t resist. Shiro pulls almost completely back, the head pressing lightly against his lips as he says, “You can touch me, Keith,” and takes Keith back into his mouth. 

However, Keith has to look at Shiro. He has to watch Shiro bring him to orgasm, and if Keith lets his hands grip at Shiro’s hair, he would be moving off his elbows and end up on his back because his support to stay propped up to look at Shiro would be gone. Keith thinks Shiro may be testing him, to see if he’ll give in and touch Shiro but also knowing Keith wouldn’t be able to keep himself up to watch him. Keith has no choice but to keep himself on his elbows as there’s no other way Keith would be able to watch the larger man bring him to orgasm. 

Speaking of that, Shiro takes Keith into his throat, nose pressing to Keith’s groin again, choking himself for Keith to feel it around his cock. His head almost tips back again, the urge to do it so strong that it’s fighting against the muscles in his neck that are tensing. 

The larger man doesn’t let up, tightening his arms around Keith’s thighs as Keith begins to squirm His orgasm is approaching faster with every movement of Shiro’s mouth, with every stroke of his tongue, with every bit of wet, hot suction along his cock that Keith’s breath hitches. It’s getting more difficult to keep his eyes on Shiro, bobbing his head faster, pushing his throat to the limit, putting on a show for Keith watch.

It’s going to be less than thirty seconds until Keith comes and the tension of it is seizing his muscles. His feet are digging into the bedding, his chest is heaving, the gasps from his throat are hot and needy and so loud that Keith has no hope of weathering or containing.

Shiro pushes his face down and into Keith’s groin and hums as his throat convulses around his cock and that is the final factor that snaps the tension in Keith’s body.

It takes a tremendous amount of effort to keep himself looking at Shiro, to not allow his eyes to close in pure orgasmic bliss that’s trying to forcefully pull his mind under the oblivion it brings with it. The pleasure coming from it is all-consuming, washing over Keith’s body as he whines, high and needy, and his eyes come close to shutting but keeping open just enough to see Shiro pull back and get a hand around him. He watches himself come, pearly white cum shooting from his cock and getting all over his stomach, running down Shiro’s fingers and knuckles, making everything messy. Some of it gets onto Shiro’s face and the sight of it pushes out the last vestiges of his orgasm, a little more cum pushing out at the sight of it. 

He watches his cock throb, twitching in Shiro’s hand, the color a deepened red that stands out against the color of Shiro’s fist. Shiro is watching his dick as well, waiting for him to finish coming before he lets go of Keith’s dick to raises up on his knees. He places his metal hand onto Keith’s side as he brings his flesh hand to Keith’s stomach and slides a finger through the mess of cum that’s cooling there, smearing it along his stomach and lifts it.

“You did good, Keith, I’m so proud of you,” is gentle from Shiro, his voice raspy.

“Open up,” he says, and Keith immediately complies, watching as Shiro brings his own cum to his mouth. Shiro presses it against Keith’s tongue and rubs it in slow circles before retracting his finger. 

“That’s a good boy.” Warmth blooms in Keith’s stomach at the praise. “Swallow.”

Keith does as he commands.

Shiro leans forward, getting a hand on the bed for support as he moves to connect his mouth with Keith, pushing into Keith’s mouth as he yields to the bigger man. Shiro lets one palm come up to grasp at Keith’s chin and begins to control Keith’s movement, angling his face the way the muscled man wants and Keith lets it happen. He’s beginning to grow comfortable with Shiro controlling the direction of the mood, he’s confident that Shiro knows exactly what he’s doing. A part of him is still a little uneasy about giving up control, but Shiro is slowly but surely chipping away at that feeling.

Shiro pulls back, looking at Keith, mouth slackened as spit trails between their mouths and still holding Keith’s chin. 

“Such a good boy, my perfect baby.”

Shiro looks at him for a little while longer before he says, “I want you to turn over for me, and present yourself to me.”

Keith’s a little confused about the meaning before he realizes what Shiro wants. There’s a flare of embarrassment at the image of what he’s going to look like if he does this. Shiro’s thumb rubs at his jaw, continuing with, “I know you can do this for me, you’ve done so much for me already, and I’m really proud of you for doing this.”

With that, steel-colored eyes back away from him, sitting back on his haunches, watching Keith and waiting for him to make his move. Keith’s body is still like jelly, his nerves disconnected from his muscles, and Keith has to consciously think of moving himself to push up off his elbows. His movements are slow, his arms shaking and feeling as weak as a newborn deer as his body comes down from the orgasm just minutes before. 

“Good boy, my good baby,” Shiro encourages, the constant stream of praise doing wonders to encourage Keith, as well as trying to reignite his arousal as his cock gives a valiant effort to become hard again. 

He’s always thought about experimenting with having multiple orgasms, and it always seems like such a good idea. The desire to carry it out is there when he’s building himself up, when he’s on the verge of coming. It has the most appeal when Keith comes, clenching down on his fingers and hand stroking himself quickly, thinking about how much he’d love to do it again.

But when the orgasm passes, the urge to come again and bask in another moment of oblivion suddenly loses its appeal and all other sexual thoughts that were working into his mind are dropped quickly as the interest in them rapidly wanes. It happens every single time: he comes his brains out, from some toy or his own hands, and as he regards the cum on his fingers and stomach, he quickly starts to lose interest in wanting to do it again. It’s like all of his sexual energy and desires leave him when he comes and there’s nothing left to draw on.

All it takes is an orgasm and all of his fantasies suddenly don’t appeal anymore, and Keith can’t find it in him to gather the effort to get them to appeal.

But with Shiro, he’s actively working Keith into a continuous frenzy that even after coming twice, he finds himself wanting to continue, wanting to please Shiro and make him proud.

Keith gets onto his knees and elbows, his muscles still trembling but slowly calming, lowering the upper half of his body until his chest is almost touching the sheets below him. He puts his head down, mostly to fight off the embarrassment of being exposed like this, as well as knowing from Shiro’s videos, he knows what the larger man is going to tell him to do. He’s never been asked to do this, no one has even tried to get remotely close enough to even attempt what is about to happen.

“That’s good, so good, Keith. Now, I want you to present to me.” 

Keith’s fingers clench into the blankets, hesitating and unsure about giving him what he wants. He’s seen Shiro do this in his videos and has gotten off to him exerting so much control over the men that were doing this, and had no problem thinking about being in their places.

But actually doing the act in real life? Completely different story.

“Hey, hey, Keith, I know you can do this. You’ve done everything I’ve told you to, you can do this, too. I know you can.” 

His arms tremble as they lift, his upper body orienting so he’s using his forehead to lean against the bed and letting his weight be accommodated, and then reaches behind him. His fingers touch against the skin of his backside, hesitating for a moment, but Shiro comes in with, “It’s okay, Keith, I know you can do it. You’re sure a good baby, I know you have it in you to do this.”

He closes his eyes like it’s going to help him hide from the embarrassment of doing this.

With another breath that trembles within his throat and rattles his lungs, he reaches further back and grips himself and languidly, carefully, spreads his ass cheeks, presenting his hole to Shiro.

 _“Oh,”_ Shiro breathes, “that’s a good baby. That’s very good baby, and you’re all mine. I’m so proud of you, honey.”

It feels… odd, in many ways Keith can’t describe. There is a vulnerability that’s palpable, that feels like it has a physical presence. There’s an exposure that Keith doesn’t know how to recognize or describe why it’s tensing his stomach and causing his lungs to work faster, his heart choosing to increase its tempo. Perhaps it’s the thrill of doing this? Maybe it’s because he’s opening himself to Shiro and showing him the most intimate area of his body? There’s a lot of conflict within his chest that’s creating a storm.

Shiro’s hand makes contact with Keith’s ass, sliding up and under one of Keith’s hands to take over the job of keeping him spread, thumb digging into the skin around his hole.

“That’s such a pretty pink hole,” is reverent from Shiro, his thumb putting more pressure against the skin and pressing into it, trying to expose more of Keith. In response, the interracial man’s breath stammers in his lungs again as a sound climbs up and out of his throat, pressed against the bed and smearing under his mouth.

The hand that Shiro replaced falls to the bed, digging into the sheets just above his head and pulling down on them as his hand stops beside his head. 

“Such a pretty hole.” Shiro pushes his thumb closer to his hole, sitting just outside of the opening, obviously teasing. “And you know what, Keith? This hole is mine. All mine. Isn’t that right?”

Shiro brings his other hand up to push away Keith’s other hand and grips onto the skin. He digs his thumbs into the skin around Keith’s hole and pushes them further apart, and Keith can feel himself open in a way he’s never experienced before. 

“Look at you,” is a rough purr from the larger man, staring intently at Keith’s exposure, “look at how pretty you are, and it’s all for me.”

Keith makes a sound against the blankets, trying to bury his face into the sheets.

His eyes snap open when he feels warm breath against his ass, pushing against the exposed skin, but there’s a pause that makes the anticipation squeeze Keith’s insides, his stomach tensing as he thinks about what Shiro’s next move will be.

“How are you feeling, Keith? Talk to me.”

With a deep breath and reorienting his tongue to try to speak, Keith gives a small, “I’m good, I’m okay.”

“I need you to speak louder, baby.”

Keith presses his forehead into the bedding further until his mouth is tilting toward the open air and his chin is almost parallel to his chest. “I’m okay, Shiro,” he speaks in a shaky tone, but louder.

“Good, that’s good.”

Shiro’s hands don’t let up from their position, keeping the smaller man open to his inspection, but Shiro does say, “I’ve been wanting to know how you would look writhing on my tongue for too long,” before he leans forward and licks a broad stripe up his hole. 

Keith can’t say that he hasn’t been eaten out, his last fling having a penchant for it, but it’s not something that he’s gotten to participate in for a long time. There’s a difference in how Shiro eats him out, with his coordinated and deliberate strokes, the way he spends time lavishing every area. They’re precise and deliberate in their slowness that shows Shiro isn’t in a hurry to get it over with. He’s taking his time, sliding his tongue along Keith’s hole, pulling back to swirl it around his hole before pushing his tongue inside but never letting it linger.

Shiro moves one hand to slide it down Keith’s thigh and pushing it forward, letting Keith open for him as his hand goes back to Keith’s ass, and spreading him again. “Such a pretty baby, _my_ pretty baby,” he whispers against the skin, kissing at the firm muscle of Keith’s ass, pressing his tongue against it and coming in behind to bite at the skin. He places his lips just behind Keith’s balls, placing a kiss there and says, “I love how good my baby is,” and trails kisses up.

His words blow warm air onto Keith’s spit-slick hole which causes Keith to shudder. He turns his head, dragging his forehead against the sheets, pulling on his hair, and turning until his cheek rests against the bed, messy hair hanging in his face and partially obscuring his vision as his looks forward but not registering what he’s looking at. 

“I know you’re perfect, Keith. I know you’re being so good for me and only me.” Shiro places a kiss at the base of Keith’s spine, “My good boy.”

With that, Shiro dives back in, sealing his mouth over Keith’s hole and sucks, pulling back to push his tongue in, and the force of his puts pressure on Keith’s knees, pushing them into the bed and sliding minutely against the blankets under him. They begin to bunch under Keith’s knees as they grind into the bedding. Shiro pushes his face into Keith’s ass, mashing his nose against the skin, his hair ticklish where it touches the smaller man’s skin, and tries to force his tongue in as far as it can go and wriggles it around, making circular motions before pulling back to do the same movement around the outside.

Shiro is enthusiastic, even when he’s slowing down to draw out the movements and Keith whines through the entire thing. His cock is gaining interest again, trying to fill with blood, but Keith’s sure that he can’t possibly come again, that he’s running out of cum to give, but Shiro is determined to get him back to that state. Keith has never come dry but at the back of his mind, he wonders how it’s going to feel when his body has nothing left to give.

Keith begins to reach for himself, wanting to relieve the building tension but Shiro catches his hand, the grip firm. The larger man is pulling back, his other hand still on Keith’s ass firming its grip as he surveys what Keith is doing.

“I never said you could touch yourself, Keith,” there is a firm undertone in his Shiro’s voice that causes something to freeze within Keith’s stomach. “Are you going to start doing what I don’t tell you to?”

“N-no,” Keith is able to force out, gritting his teeth against the cut pleasure that his body is protesting losing, wanting Shiro to continue eating him out, “I don’t—I didn’t think it was—”

“If I don’t tell you to touch yourself, then you don’t. Is that clear?”

“I—”

The grip tightens on his wrist. “Is that _clear_?”

The desire for Shiro to draw out another orgasm is overpowering Keith’s want to push Shiro and see how he reacts. He knows Shiro can get rough, has watched him toss men around like they’re nothing, pin them down and roughly fuck them into submission, and Keith has the desire to experience that. However, his body is too desperate right now for Keith to want to test that limit. 

“Yes, yes, I—I won’t try to.”

Shiro keeps a grip on his wrist for another moment before he lets go. That hand is back on his ass, hot breath against his hole but there’s nothing that comes after, just Shiro holding him open, looking at him, but choosing not to go back to his fervor of eating Keith out. 

“You’ve been so good for me, Keith, but you keep acting out,” has an observational tone even though it’s soft, and there’s a dreadful anticipation that begins to coalesce inside Keith’s chest. He bites at his lips to stop himself from wanting to say something and resists the urge to push back in Shiro’s hands to encourage him to get his tongue back inside Keith.

“I know you’re a good boy, Keith,” Shiro’s mouth is so close to his ass that all Keith has to do is push back and it will be back where he wants it, but he continues to maintain his position. “I have seen you be so perfect for me, but you keep doing things that Daddy never told you to.”

Just that simple drop of Daddy has the heat in Keith’s stomach kindling further.

One of Shiro’s hands shift and allow him to press his thumb against the drying skin of his hole, applying light pressure but enough for Keith to know what the intent is. 

“I think I’ve been slacking in teaching my baby how to behave.” It’s lower, rougher, enough to make Keith’s toes curl.

What shocks Keith is the removal of Shiro’s hand that pulls away before smacking into Keith’s ass, forcing a yelp out of his throat with such force that it takes Keith by surprise. 

“I’m gonna have to mark this perfect ass up to remind you.” Shiro leans over him, the bed shifting and Keith feels Shiro against his back, one hand leaving Keith’s ass to push into the bed above his head, the other staying in the spot where it smacked him. Shiro leans down enough to get against his ear, mouth breathing warm air against it, “You need to _behave_.”

A moan leaves Keith’s throat when he feels Shiro’s hips press against his ass, still wearing his pants but he can feel the shape of Shiro’s dick against him, large and trying to push through his pants and Keith wants to feel. It seems as though the man above him understands what he’s thinking, hand leaving his ass to grasp at his pants, the sound of a zipper moving, loud in his ears. Shiro presses his hips to Keith’s ass again and Keith can feel how hard Shiro is. 

He can’t resist no matter how hard he tries and pushes back against Shiro, wanting to feel that big cock against him. He’s been thinking about that dick, how big it is, how thick is looks, how it would feel to fuck his throat and choke on it, what it would be like to feel it stretch him open and push out his lower stomach. All of those fantasies are playing behind his eyelids, projected from his mind that so desperately wants this that it’s fighting against what Shiro is warning him not to do.

That movement gets a low groan out of Shiro and for a moment, Keith thinks he’s been able to convince Shiro to forego any and all reservations to hurry up and get his cock into Keith, but it proves to not be like that, not quite.

Shiro’s hands grasp at Keith’s wrists, pulling them behind his back to grip with one hand, easily covering both of his hands, as Shiro’s other hand comes to grip at the front of his neck and pulls Keith up, the world rushing around his eyes in a blur of dark colors until he’s looking straight ahead. The grip around his wrists are tight, Shiro’s hand sliding up his neck until it reaches the underside of his jaw before pushing on it and forcing Keith’s head back until it’s leaning on Shiro’s shoulder. 

“It seems like you don’t want to be good for me, do you, Keith?” The way Keith’s jaw is titled, the pressure Shiro puts on it makes it impossible to talk, and Shiro tsks, shaking his head. He lowers his mouth to Keith’s ear, “I think I know what you need to be a good boy again.”

Before Shiro moves his hand from his neck, he says, “Don’t move from this position, keep your head just like this,” and reaches somewhere Keith can’t see. 

Shiro’s hand leaves his wrists and while Keith entertains the idea of moving them, he doesn’t let himself give into wanting to move them, compelled to follow the directions given to him more than he wants to disobey. 

Shiro moves behind him but Keith can’t tell what he’s doing, only feeling his body move and bend around him. Keith stares at the ceiling, keeping himself in place until there’s a hand back on his neck, and a voice in his ear with, “Good boy, that’s a good boy, so eager to follow orders,” and another hand sliding along his thigh to stop along his hip, “and I so love to reward good boys that want to please.”

Shiro pulls back, his hands falling away that the sudden disconnect leaves him momentarily stunned at how he’s floundering without Shiro’s touch, who has spent their entire time together having contact with his body. His body protests the loss of Shiro’s hands, the touch they bestow upon his body, but he doesn’t have to wait very long if he follows Shiro’s orders. 

“Get on your back, Keith.”

Keith scrambles to obey, wanting more of Shiro’s touch, his usual thoughts of wanting to maintain independence unable to tempt him with wanting to disobey. 

He faces Shiro, flat on his back, head propped up back large, fluffy pillows—he would admire how quality they are and how comfortable they would feel under his head, but he’s too focused on Shiro to want to dwell on anything else.

Shiro maintains his position, watching Keith, ash-colored eyes staring down intently at him, roving his body and surveying what he plans to do. Keith doesn’t try to predict what Shiro plans to do, already having every thought and belief of what Shiro could possibly do taken apart.

After a moment, Shiro leans forward and connects his mouth with Keith’s, spending a brief moment exploring his mouth, the pace slow but in a thorough way that ultimately becomes a thief to the air in his lungs. It’s the way Shiro lays siege to his mouth, that demands his surrender, and Keith is more than happy to give Shiro that victory. Shiro spends another moment kissing him before pulling back and settling on his haunches.

Keith’s eyes are drawn to Shiro’s hands when one presents a bottle of lube.

In the pit of his stomach begins a coalescence of anxiety that serves to heighten the atmosphere, and Keith’s nerves begin to flare. Shiro had done a considerable job to lessen their impact from the two previous orgasms but they don’t mean anything when Keith is reminded that Shiro is going to do what Keith has been fantasizing about for a while. It’s one thing to view it in a fantasy setting but it’s completely different when faced with experiencing the actual thing. 

Keith doesn’t have to wonder if reality will meet the expectation—all of Shiro has managed to defy what Keith may have thought, so he’s not about to try now to imagine what it could possibly be like.

He watches as the older man uncaps the lid, paying close attention to the clear liquid that squeezes from the cap and onto Shiro’s fingers, dripping down his palm and onto his arm. He pays close attention to Shiro as he rubs his fingers together, warming it with his body heat that continues to build the nervousness in his chest. 

He can’t believe those fingers are about to stretch him open. 

Shiro makes eye contact with him, holding his attention before, “I want you to know that you can back out at any time. I won’t be mad if you do.”

Keith shakes his head, hands grasping at the blankets below him in a moment of trying to steel himself, releasing it quickly as he tries to assure Shiro with, “I’m good, I’m okay, Shiro.”

The larger man stares at him for a moment, trying to see any kind of hesitance before he nods. 

Shiro moves forward, the bed dipping under him, and in a slow, controlled fashion that reminds Keith of a confident predator but one that Keith is eager to be the lamb for. 

Shiro settles over Keith, boxing him in before his hand trails toward Keith’s ass, but he doesn’t go for his hole quite yet.

Instead, Shiro’s fingers land on his stomach, just below his belly button. One lubed finger trails down his stomach, leaving a thin smear of lube along his stomach and down to his groin. The sensation is somewhat ticklish, his stomach contracting and trying to fight the giggles that are trying to pile up in his throat.

It’s when Shiro’s fingers stop just above his hole does the urge to laugh collapses in his throat to be replaced by a sharp inhale. Shiro’s fingers linger there for a moment before trailing down, one finger now setting lightly against his hole. It doesn’t push in, only taking a moment to gently swirl around the area, the touch a light pressure as it gently messages the skin there. 

Shiro moves, using his other hand to push at the underside of his thigh, moving it until his left leg is propped up, his foot flat on the bed, and allows himself to settle further in the space. Shiro’s finger continues to rub at the skin there, smearing lube along the skin as it glides along the skin, as well as applying small amounts of pressure that fool Keith into thinking Shiro is going to finally push his fingers in. All the attention begins to make him squirm but it doesn’t last long as Shiro moves forward, hovering over him and connecting their mouths as he allows his finger to breach.

Keith’s hands move before he is able to think about Shiro wanting him to move, both raising to rest on Shiro’s shoulders as Shiro presses his mouth firmly against his. Keith’s other leg raises in reaction, both legs falling apart to allow Shiro the room to get between them. His unoccupied hand plants itself on the bed to give him balance.

His finger pushes in to the first knuckle and Keith is already amazed at the size of Shiro’s finger. He had known that Shiro was a big man, his palms wide, his chest broad, his fingers long and thick, and many times he had imagined what it would be like to have those fingers inside him and writhing on them, but having the real thing pushing into his body defies all feeling he thought he would derive from this. They’re thick, corded with muscle, and already, Keith can tell that these fingers will feel so much more satisfying than his own fingers. 

Shiro’s mouth pulls away from his own, neck craning to move to the side of his mouth and down his jaw, breath heavy against Keith’s skin as his tongue finds the skin. He trails down Keith’s jaw as his finger moves inside Keith further, going to the second knuckle and surprising Keith with the slight feeling of fullness, something he’d achieve with two of his own fingers. It nearly leaves the younger man breathless with how big Shiro’s fingers are, the reality of it finally dawning on him.

Shiro’s mouth trails down his neck, biting at the junction of his neck and shoulder and Keith tips his head back to allow Shiro the access, fingers digging into Shiro’s shoulders before one hand moves to grasp at the back of Shiro’s head. His fingers slip a little as he blindly fumbles at the short hair there, his fingers searching to grasp at anything before they find the top of Shiro’s head, gripping at the hair there and settling. 

He arches up, trying to push into Shiro’s mouth, to convince Shiro to keep going. The last knuckle of Shiro’s finger presses against the outside of Keith’s hole, the thickness of his finger catching him off guard even though he knows that he shouldn’t be surprised. Shiro moves his finger, creating circular motions, slow and methodic that causes Keith’s back to arch inward a little, his breath coming in a little sharper.

It’s too obvious that Shiro knows what he’s doing, how he’s going to take Keith apart, and it flatters the smaller man that Shiro is doing all he can to make sure Keith is satisfied.

“You are tight,” and oh, that’s Shiro’s voice, smeared against his skin, rubbing his words into his neck. Shiro closes his lips around Keith’s Adam’s apple, sucking on it lightly before pulling back. 

“I knew from the moment I met you, that you could be such a perfect boy,” and Shiro trails down further, to Keith’s collarbones, scraping his teeth against the skin and moving down further. He mouths at one of Keith’s nipples, drawing it into his mouth and closing his teeth around it to pull gently and pulling his finger out to the first knuckle and pushing back inside in tandem. The combination gets a stuttering gasp, his chest expanding quickly in response, his chest arching as his shoulder blades dig into the pillow that props him up. The movement pushes him against Shiro, who only doubles down on his movements.

The flat of his tongue licks over Keith’s nipple as Shiro continues to move his finger in Keith, pulling it into his mouth, and curling his finger as he moves about inside Keith. With one last kiss to Keith’s nipple, he pulls away and looks at Keith.

“I love how responsive you are,” is soft but with a husky tone, his attention focused purely on Keith, “and I love that you’re doing it for me, wanting to please Daddy.”

There it is again, the term starting to get to Keith, but he knows Shiro is still trying to figure out the word’s effect. Keith thinks Shiro is trying to ease him into the kinks he has an interest in, but Keith still hasn’t gotten past the sex part. When he’s able to not feel so much awe at the mere notion of Shiro having interest in him, then he’ll be ready for what Shiro wants to give him. 

Shiro slowly pulls his finger out and moves back, much to Keith’s displeasure, but with the sight of the lube bottle back in his hand, Keith knows Shiro plans to add another finger. He feels a little loose but not enough for Shiro to fuck him, or maybe Keith just thinks so because one of Shiro’s fingers is equal to two of Keith’s own. It’s more than what Keith is used to and Shiro only has more in store for him.

The larger man rolls the lube around his fingers before looking back up at Keith, setting it down beside him, and asks, “Let me know if it’s too much and I’ll stop,” before he moves forward, settling back between Keith’s legs. 

His fingers trail down but don’t brush against Keith’s skin like he had done earlier and goes straight for Keith’s entrance. Instead, Shiro rubs two fingers against his entrance, the touch soft but with a firm undertone, and Shiro watches him until Keith squirms, trying to push back and encourage Shiro to push into him.

“Love how eager you’re for this,’ is more of an offhand comment from Shiro, his attention raptly focused on where his fingers are now, watching himself pet Keith’s hole and getting lube all over him and onto the sheets. He begins to slide his fingers in, pushing to the first knuckle and letting Keith adjust to them. 

The biracial man appreciates the slow thoroughness that Shiro is taking with him, as well as his willingness to make sure Keith is okay, but in all honesty, Keith wants him to go faster, he wants Shiro to split him apart on his fingers and that massive cock of his. The sweetness and gentle efforts can be foregone at this time, Keith wants to be fucked and fucked now.

He tries to encourage Shiro, trying to bear down on those fingers, ignoring the small increase in that stretching burn, wanting Shiro to see he’s ready for it.

His voice almost stutters on Shiro’s name, trying to get Shiro’s attention, and an almost needy, “Come on, I’m ready.” 

Shiro looks amused, and says, “The next words you say better not be about being made of glass,” and okay, Keith was going to comment that he’s not fragile and won’t break, but Shiro seems to have heard those kinds of statements many times before.

“Trust me,” and those fingers move to the second knuckle and the feeling of Shiro going deeper nearly steals his breath, “I don’t want to hurt you. Believe me, there’s nothing more that I want than to fuck you, but I want you to enjoy it.”

Keith is trying to restrain his squirming but finds it difficult, his body reacting to the feeling of Shiro’s fingers, as well as hovering just before him, not out of reach that his fingers itch to grasp at. Instead, his fingers grab at the sheets, pulling on them as his jaw clenches and releasing to let his head fall back, a moan falling from his lips as Shiro lets the base of his fingers press against him. One of his legs nearly slides across the bed, almost collapsing before Keith is able to get ahold of himself. 

With his neck exposed, Shiro wastes no time in connecting his mouth to the skin there, taking it between his teeth before soothing it over with his tongue. He pulls back to get an arm under Keith’s leg before moving forward, pushing that leg back to further open Keith to him. He leans forward, sliding the back of Keith’s knee to rest in the crook of his elbow, and kisses Keith as he thrusts his fingers in Keith with more fervor than previously used. Keith’s mouth falls open, allowing Shiro to push further into his mouth, all the while his fingers are bending, twisting, and curling inside him, shifting their angle and spreading apart to further stretch Keith. 

There’s a hitch in Keith’s breath when the change of angle causes Shiro’s fingers to brush against his prostate that results in a smile against his lips from Shiro. 

“There it is,” is smeared against Keith’s lips, warm breath ghosting over Keith’s mouth, and Shiro pulls back, his eyes focused on Keith as his fingers press directly onto his sweet spot. Keith’s back arches and lets his head tip back, biting on his lip to stop the spill of sound in his throat that’s building there. He’s not exactly embarrassed about the sounds he’s making, but he’s not used to making so much sound that it’s a new experience for him. Shiro is bound and determined to hear Keith, as well as watch every reaction.

Shiro pulls out his fingers again and his body reacts viscerally to it, the emptiness that he’s clenching down on ringing negatively through him. He knows it’s only temporary but with the pleasure he was feeling cut so drastically, his body is aching to have it back. 

Shiro’s arm unwinds from under his knee, reaching for the lube again.

Maybe Shiro likes it wet and messy with how much lube he keeps adding to his fingers, and pretty soon, he’s going to be leaking more lube than Shiro’s actual cum if he keeps going like this.

Keith’s chest is heaving as he watches the lube drip down Shiro’s hand and all over his arm before he puts it back down again, moving into place and connecting their mouths as Shiro thrusts three fingers into him slowly, this time not exactly pausing at each knuckle, but sinks in until the base of his fingers sit against Keith. He doesn’t move his hand, waiting for Keith to adjust again.

Shiro’s mouth hovers over Keith’s, breathing against the smaller man’s, and Keith’s arms come up to rest on Shiro’s shoulders again, fingers digging into the thick, corded muscle there, leaving behind dull imprints of his nails. 

“I love how responsive you are,” is low and full of desire, breathed against Keith’s mouth. “I love how you’re so sensitive, reacting to everything I do,” and Shiro twists his fingers, spreading them apart, the wet sound of his fingers thrusting into him loud in the between them, leaking out of Keith with every movement. 

“You’re so pretty like this, and you know what?” Shiro leans forward to kiss him again, taking it slow but thorough, the kiss filthy and full of tongue as Shiro seeks to overwhelm Keith. He pulls back, enough to look at Keith, and he lets a husky, “You’re all mine, and mine alone,” and Shiro’s wrist rotates and his fingers crook, finding that spot that makes Keith grip harder on Shiro’s shoulder, his voice stuttering out a moan, and his eyes closing as he can’t find the motivation in him to keep them open, “and only I get to see you like this.”

His fingers relentlessly rub over that spot, applying firm pressure with every few strokes, as well as Shiro reaching forward with his other hand to grip at Keith’s chin, forcing him to keep his head up. And he says, “Keith, look at me,” in such a voice that he can’t resist Shiro’s command.

“You know that I’d never let anyone have this—have _you_ like this,” and his Shiro’s stare bores into Keith’s being. “I love that you’re so eager to please me and only me,” and Shiro brings Keith’s face close until the smaller man can feel Shiro’s breath on his face, “I love that I’m the only one that you want, that you _need_ ,” and Shiro presses harshly against Keith’s prostate that unhinges a whine in Keith’s throat. He nearly closes his eyes, but Shiro’s there to demand, “Don’t close your eyes. Keep them on me, baby.”

Keith is so close to another orgasm, his cock hard and leaking between them, dripping onto his stomach but Shiro doesn’t pay it any attention, completely focused on Keith himself. The pressure is building, his stomach is tensing more with every passing moment, and his body is poised to come all over himself again. 

Keith doesn’t know how much Shiro wants him to come, if he wants every drop wrung from him, but he has a feeling that he would give it all to Shiro if he asked. However, Keith has never come so much in one sitting, and he’s never experienced a dry orgasm before. Normally, after his first orgasm, Keith loses all drive to achieve another, finding himself disinterested in anything else, and closing out whatever video he was watching, even if it’s only halfway through and still has material left, Keith just can’t be bothered to get the excitement back up.

He’s just a one-man orgasm, and he’s fine with just having one, it does the job and he’s in no way complaining about it. Sure, a second orgasm sounds appealing when he’s about to come, but as soon as he’s done coming? All interest has been lost.

It should be no surprise to Keith that Shiro would want to make him come as many times as possible. He’s seen Shiro’s cam videos, he’s seen men reduced to tears with how many times he has them come, and in this moment, Shiro’s purpose doesn’t differ from those videos. 

Shiro’s fingers are now relentless, twisting inside him, pressing against his prostate, clenching down on them when Shiro does a particular movement that edges more oblivion into his mind. Keith can’t look away, now when Shiro doesn’t allow him to look away from him, wanting Keith to see what Shiro is doing to him, not wanting him to miss any moment of it.

“S-Shiro,” Keith tries, his voice trembling, unable to let out a sound without it sounding like a moan or so needy that it resembles begging, “I—I’m about—”

“Good,” Shiro says, and the tone of it so satisfied and commanding of Keith’s attention, “I want you to come, I want you to show me that you can be a good boy and do what I say.”

Shiro increases the pace of his fingers, rubbing at that spot, almost digging his fingers into it, and the sensation of it is nearly overwhelming, but also propelling him quickly to coming. His balls are tightening, drawing up, ready to come, but Shiro doesn’t lift a hand to touch his dick. 

Keith’s breath hitches, the pressure in his stomach is so close to spilling over, and Shiro’s fingers are propelling him along so quickly that Keith doesn’t think he’s going to last another fifteen seconds

It’s with this high whine that the pressure releases, and he’s coming—

A hand around his cock prevents that from happening.

Keith almost shatters from it.

Almost.

The sudden cut of his orgasm forces a gasp from him, as well as a groan, gritting his teeth as his eyes squeeze shut, trying to process the sudden loss of feeling that his body his protesting. It happens so fast and quick that he wasn’t prepared for it as reality slams back into him and crushing him under the weight of it. His body is tensed, his fingers clenching at Shiro’s shoulders, chest heaving as his lungs demand more oxygen. He shakes through it as his orgasm recedes to the background and the ringing in his ears begin to fade. His body is in the process of crashing back to the surface, the impact strong and unforgiving.

Keith’s eyes open, the world momentarily bleary before his world re-centers on Shiro, who is watching him closely, staring at cataloguing every moment of his denied orgasm. He shakes, trembles with the force of a severed orgasm, and forces his jaw to work and his tongues to shape those angry sounds into something that and be understandable.

“Wh—I thought—”

“I know, baby,” Shiro settles on instead, leaning forward to kiss at Keith’s cheek, sweet and delicate as though he didn’t just stop Keith’s from having an orgasm. “Believe me, I did want to see you come, but I thought it would be better for you to come on my dick.”

A renewed amount of interest sparks through Keith, and though that is a very appealing thought, Keith’s mind is still caught on being denied climax. He glares at Shiro for a moment but it’s losing heat fast but Shiro only laughs momentarily. 

“It’s okay, I’ll make it worth your while. You deserve it, being so good for me, so perfect,” Shiro says against his cheek, nosing down to press a kiss to the underside of Keith’s jaw. Shiro removes his fingers from Keith and Keith has to struggle against the disappointment of Shiro pulling away again.

The older man leans back again, picking up the lube bottle and applying another generous amount to his palm, a little excessive if Keith were honest, but it only serves to heighten the amount of arousal he feels. With his orgasm crouching in the background, it’s slowly encouraged to come forward as Keith watches Shiro toss the bottle away somewhere, the sound of it hitting the floor so far away from his ears as he watches Shiro reach for himself.

He watches with rapt attention as Shiro begins to spread lube all over his cock, watch Shiro grip himself and pull on his foreskin, and stroking himself slowly. He watches the way that big hand covers himself, the slow stroking causing a low moan to escape from Shiro. That hand glides along pronounced veins, the lube dripping down and some of it making it to the bed sheets below. That hand twists to maximize the spreading of the lube, Shiro’s head tipping back briefly before he stops, the sound of his breathing levelling into something less labored.

Shiro’s eyes find Keith’s and he swallows, his eyes pulling away from Shiro’s dick and ignoring the desire to get that cock into his mouth.

He certainly wouldn’t mind choking on it.

“Turn around and get on your knees.”

It takes a moment for Keith to register those words, needing time to work through them before the meaning of them collapses so vividly into his mind. It takes some coaxing as Keith’s limbs are still recovering from his denied orgasm. They feel uncoordinated as Keith moves, feeling the trembles going through his body that threaten to shake his foundation apart. 

“That’s it, baby, that’s a good boy,” Shiro praises, and a litany of praise continues to fall from Shiro’s mouth, encouraging his efforts even though Keith isn’t sure if they deserve it, but his body warms from Shiro’s words. It doesn’t matter what kind of actions Keith does, even the smallest ones are rewarded from Shiro, and it’s this stream of words that Keith has begun to covet and yearn to hear. 

Keith gets himself in place, on his hands and knees, fingers digging into the sheets below him, staring at them as he’s not sure what else he’s supposed to do. He’s more than aware of his cock, hard and pulsing with blood, his orgasm waiting to spring forth, that Keith has to clench his jaw and focus on actively trying to not touch himself, sure that Shiro wouldn’t be pleased with that move. 

He can’t believe that he’s given over so much to Shiro, that he’s not taking an active role on this, and letting Shiro decide what he should do. Something like this would normally cause Keith to bristle at the mere notion of not taking some kind of control or being able to have influence in what happens, but Shiro does enough to easily disarm all those protests. He shouldn’t be surprised when Shiro specializes in doing this, but he’s still trying to peruse his own willingness to let Shiro take what he wants.

“Now,” and Shiro’s voice sharpens, “present yourself to me.”

Keith’s browns knit together, confused at what Shiro means before it dawns on him, one of Shiro’s videos coming to mind and what that means for him.

His eyes widen, his mouth falls open as he thinks about the position he’s about to be in.

“Go on, Keith, show me where you want me, show me that pretty little hole of yours,” and it’s a purr from Shiro, low and husky, as the words wash over him, kindling the heat in his stomach and on his face, biting his lip as he tries to build himself up. 

His hands grip the bedding one last time before slackening, slowly moving them, his mind gawking at the mere thought of what he’s about to do.

He lowers his chest to the bed, unsure if he possess the strength to keep himself upright without using his arms, and his forehead presses into the bed, hair falling messily around his ears and onto the bed, chin angled toward his chest as he leans his weight against his forehead, supporting his body. His hands move and his hands come to rest on his ass, fingers pressing against the skin, hesitating to move forward.

“That’s my baby, show Daddy—” Keith inhales at that word, “—what you want to be fucked.” 

He bites his lip again, arms trembling, but he steers himself, taking a deep but quick breath before moving his hands. His fingers nearly touch as they rest just outside of his entrance before pulling his cheeks apart and exposing his hole to Shiro. 

“That’s good, Keith, that’s _so_ good. I’m _so_ proud of you, baby,” Shiro’s voice is reverent, an awe in his voice that serves to encourage Keith’s efforts to not get embarrassed. His face is on fire, every pore threatening to burn away as he tries to desperately keep his mind off what he’s doing.

“Suck a pretty hole,” Shiro coos, bringing his hand up and rest his thumb on top of Keith’s hole, not applying pressure, not doing anything except touching. “One day, I’m gonna eat you out until you come on my tongue,” and that visual stirs more heat in his body, and Shiro begins to rub his thumb against the skin that causes Keith to twitch. 

“But I want to fuck you more than eating you out, so that will come later.”

With one last press of his thumb, Shiro removes it from him and doesn’t touch him after. Keith doesn’t have a complete visual of Shiro. Only seeing his legs behind him from the angle his face is at, and it causes his body to heighten, trying to predict when Shiro will touch him again.

The bed moves, Shiro’s body shifting, and moving behind him that Keith wants to cry with relief at Shiro doing something. A hand lands on the right, stroking the skin of his ass above his hand.

“You’ve been doing so good, Keith, doing everything I say,” and it’s soft and low, “and I want to show you what good boys get when they do.”

His eyes widen, his breath hitches, and he nearly gasps when he feels Shiro’s cock sliding between his hands, rubbing against his crack, pushing up from where his balls hang heavily ad gliding against the skin. Keith is so caught on how big Shiro feels that he almost second guesses himself. 

Shiro then places both of his hands on Keith’s hips and thrusts against him, the movement slow, deliberate, and further serves to heighten the awareness Keith feels. He feels it stroke over his hole, trying hard to not clench, as well as trying to keep himself under control but he’s slowly failing. Shiro is so close to being inside him, he’s so close to getting the deep dick down he’s been wanting for so long, but Shiro is taking his time, stretching it out beyond what Keith thought he was capable of taking. 

“So pretty like this,” Shiro leans forward, hovering above Keith’s back, “I can look at you like this all day and never get tired of it.”

Keith does moan at this, unable to help himself.

“Mm, you like that, don’t you, sweetheart?” It’s the terms of endearment that get Keith the most. “Don’t worry, I’m gonna take good care of you.”

With that, Shiro pulls away and Keith nearly gasps when he feels the head of Shiro’s dick press at his hole. He doesn’t breach the smaller man, only lets it linger there for a moment. Keith fights himself to not push back, knowing that Shiro could stop and choose to not fuck him and he wants to keep himself together long enough for Shiro to fuck him.

There’s an increase in pressure that Keith feels Shiro begin to push past his rim and he keeps going. Keith’s mouth falls open as he registers just how _big_ Shiro is.

Shiro pauses and Keith assumes he’s probably halfway in, bending over him and asking, “Are you alright, Keith? How are you feeling?” Shiro’s voice is a little strained, and Keith takes pride in knowing that Shiro is affected just like him.

It takes a moment for him to gather the sounds for his words, a little longer to shape them, but he answers in a somewhat strained vice, “I’m—okay, I’m alright.”

A hand settles on the biracial man’s back, more comforting than erotic, and rubs small circles there. “You can always tell me to stop if it gets too much. I can’t know if you don’t tell me.”

Keith tries to nod before remembering that the position his head is in won’t really allow that to happen and remembers that Shiro wants him to verbalize his answers. 

“I know, I w-will,” and Keith is proud of his voice not trembling apart like he thought it was. 

Baby steps.

Shiro starts again, and Keith nearly lets go of himself because he needs to grip at something to keep himself under control. Shiro is so fucking _big_ , stretching him beyond what he thought was possible. Every slide of Shiro’s cock is almost mind shattering to him, trying to not clench up but he can’t help these little reflexive little movements, twitching as he tries to hold himself together. 

Shiro bats away Keith’s hands and Keith is thankful for it as he uses them to grip at the sheets around his head, arms pulling the sheets down as his hands hover on either side of his head, fingers digging into the blankets. In another state of mind, Keith would be thankful for such high quality sheets because by now, they would be completely torn apart and that’d be another bill on Shiro to replace them. The hotel is already expensive enough, Shiro doesn’t need to spend more money than he should.

There’s a little voice that sounds too much like Shiro that says he can definitely afford to cover that loss.

Shiro finally bottoms out, groaning and folding over Keith, arms coming to rest on either side of Keith’s hands, keeping him upright as he adjusts to Keith’s body. His forehead rests against Keith’s upper back and one arm detaches from the bed. It goes under Keith’s arm to place his palm against the smaller man’s chest. It drags down the skin there, slipping through the beginnings of sweat collecting there. It glides against the flat of his stomach before settling just about his groin.

When Shiro presses his hand down, Keith jolts as he realizes what Shiro is feeling.

“I know you feel that, Keith,” is spoken almost directly into Keith’s ears, Shiro’s voice just below it. His lips find the skin of Keith’s back, placing small kisses along the skin. “I know you can feel my cock. It’s no wonder with how much smaller you are to me.”

Shiro’s hips twitch and slide forward minutely, and Keith actually whines when he feels Shiro’s cock shift inside him. Keith feels Shiro take his hand away but also feels it when Shiro places it on top of one of Keith’s own and lifts it off the bed. The larger man brings his hand to his lower stomach and places it there. Keith almost chokes with how well he can feel Shiro’s cocks just under his skin.

“You feel that, don’t you, Keith?” Shiro thrusts forward a small amount just to allow Keith feel the shift of Shiro’s dick inside him, pushing out a little more and against his palm. Shiro then pushes on Keith’s hand, pressing down on and against Shiro’s dick, and the pressure of it must be felt on Shio’s dick. He groans before sinking his teeth into Keith’s shoulder, who turns his head and resting the side of his face against the bed, his mouth open and breathing heavily through it. He doesn’t see the walls off the hotel, he doesn’t see the color of the carpet, he doesn’t anything in front of him as his mind finds too much of a disconnect between the room and the situation happening. 

His eyes threaten to close when Shiro moves again, pushing his hand harder against his stomach to feel the shift of Shiro’s dick again, and continuing to rub his hand against the bulge of it. Keith’s back arches, pressing against Shiro’s broad chest, and for a moment, all Keith can think of is how much Shiro covers him. The sheer difference in their sizes, from Shiro’s hand covering Keith’s, how much thicker his arms are compared to Keith’s, even down the size of Shiro’s cock distending from his lower stomach, all of it creates a combination that leaves Keith winded with how much arousal soaks into his system from this thought.

Shiro continues to use his hand to rub at his dick, and groans again, saying, “I could come like this, just using you like this,” and that thought causes a twitch through Keith’s body, anticipating that action, “but I don’t want to, I want to see you come apart on my cock, and reward you like the sweet, perfect boy you are.”

Shiro moves his hand away from Keith’s lower stomach, sliding it up to center on his chest, between his pectorals, and lifts Keith up, getting him on his knees. Shiro’s chest presses against Keith’s back, molding to him as his nose drops to slot in between Keith’s shoulder and neck, his arm moving so that it’s curled around Keith’s shoulders, holding him back. The other hand comes to rest on Keith’s hip, spanning so much of his hip with how broad it is. 

The smaller man has no time to process this new position because Shiro is pulling out of him until the tip is resting just inside him, and Keith clamps down on the emptiness he’s feeling, having gotten used to the size of Shiro’s girth inside him. It’s a panicking thought that Keith can’t quite sweep away until Shiro thrusts his hips forward in a slow movement, allowing Keith to feel the slide of him, to experience the stretch of it, the burn that accompanies it that only serves to heighten the sensation.

There’s a gasp that’s trying to work its way through Keith’s system, that wells up in his throat until it becomes impossible to hold it back. Instead, Keith’s arms raise, gripping onto Shiro’s arm that’s wrapped around his shoulders, fingers digging into the muscle of it as his head tips back onto Shiro’s shoulder. His mouth falls open when Shiro thrusts again, feeling the wet slide of lube, can feel it languidly dripping down his thighs. Keith’s eyes begin to lose focus, his mouth falling open, panting, as he gapes soundlessly at the ceiling, unable to figure out how to navigate his mind from under the feeling of Shiro’s dick. 

Shiro makes a guttural sound, feeling the vibrations of it, as Shiro shifts forward again, thrusting faster, obviously working Keith up until he’s able to really fuck him, but the slow build is currently undoing Keith’s mind. He wants it faster, he wants the feeling of Shiro’s cock splitting him apart, he wants to that big dick pounding into him until he can’t register anything outside of it. His fingers grip into Shiro’s arm harder but he doesn’t do anything to break free of it, allowing Shiro to keep him still and upright in the position he chooses. 

Shiro’s hand tightens at his hip and it’s the only sign he gets before Shiro turns his head, mouthing at Keith’s neck before, “I’m going to go faster now.”

The next thrust has Keith choking on a moan because Shiro slams his hips into Keith’s ass, his dick sliding into Keith in a way that he never thought to be possible. It’s probably because Shiro is so big, probably the biggest cock he’s ever taken, but there’s a difference between someone knowing how to expertly fuck someone with their giant dick than opposed to someone who doesn’t really know what they’re doing. Keith’s had his fair share of guys who didn’t know how to properly fuck him, didn’t know anything beyond thrusting into him a few times and coming without thinking about how Keith is feeling. It wasn’t frequent, but he couldn’t help but be disappointed whenever it happened.

There’s nothing more disappointing than getting a two-pump chump

But Shiro knows exactly what he’s going to do.

“Hey, none of that,” he says against the skin of Keith’s neck, “I want to hear that you’re enjoying yourself,” and he thrusts forward again until his hips meet against Keith’s ass before he grinds into Keith, making circular rotations with his hips that has Keith clenching down on Shiro. “I like hearing you moan,” and Shiro makes a series of short but quick thrusts, each one pausing when he’s fully seated in Keith to apply more pressure to his prostate, which he had figured out the position of it alarmingly fast. It shouldn’t be surprising because again, Shiro does this for a living, but Keith still can’t help but admire how fast Shiro is able to find all of his weak points.

Shiro lets himself linger with every thrust, letting himself stay inside Keith for a moment, letting Keith feel the stretch of his cock before pulling out. He begins to increase the frequency, as well as the speed of his thrusts, turning into sharp thrusts, pointed and intent, but still letting himself pause for a moment. The slap of their skin also starts to get loud as Shiro increases the force behind each thrust. 

It takes a moment for Shiro to give up all pretenses before he begins to fuck Keith in earnest, not leaving Keith any time to recover from each thrust. He starts to pant in Keith’s ear, guttural and animalistic, as takes Keith for all he’s worth.

Keith can’t get over how thick Shiro is, how well he’s stretched around Shiro’s cock, the dull burn that accompanying every movement serving to further enhance the feeling of it. His body is submerged in pleasure, raking its nails down his spine with sharp feeling, settling into his bones and infiltrating his blood. 

As Keith loses himself in Shiro’s body, Shiro’s hand removes itself from his hip. It reaches up to grasp at once of his hands and pulls it away from the arm around his shoulders. Shiro then pulls it down and places it against Keith’s lower stomach. 

Keith moans, the sound high-pitched, tapering off into a whine as he feels Shiro’s cock moving in him. 

“You can feel that, can’t you, sweetheart?” That voice is so full of satisfaction, as well as pleasure that fills the spaces between every word. “Feel how much smaller you are than me, how easily my cock fills you up,” and Keith’s breath hitches on a moan.

Shiro’s hand leaves Keith’s to go back to gripping his hip, using that as leverage to thrust harder into Keith, gripping harder in a way that eaves Keith even more breathless at the thought of Shiro leaving bruises along the skin there.

Keith wants to stand in the mirror, he wants to look at the bruises Shiro left all over his body. He wants to watch himself trace along them and press his fingers into them, letting himself indulge in the memory that they bring forth. He wants to feel the dull ache of it to remind himself of what had happened, and he wants to make sure they stay there for days, a physical reminder of what happened to him, as well as a claim that Shiro has put on his body.

He can’t wait to look at himself in the mirror after this is over.

Keith doesn’t remove his hand, instead keeping it firmly on the area where he can feel Shiro’s dick pushing against his lower stomach, marveling at the feeling it gives him. It’s euphoric, combined with Shiro fucking into him at a faster pace, feeling how ruthless Shiro dick is inside him, it’s a feeling that Keith doesn’t know how to explain. 

Keith wants to see it.

Seeing men much smaller than Shiro get fucked and being able to see where Shiro’s cock is inside them was one of Keith’s interests. He had thought about it, being in their place, and having that large cock split him open and being able to look at it pushing against the underside of his belly. It was one thing to know Shiro had a big dick, but it was something else to actually see it fucking another person. 

With some effort, Keith lifts his head, trying to look over Shiro’s arm to see his stomach. It’s some kind of signal for Shiro, who removes his arm from around Keith’s shoulders, finding the smaller man’s other hip to be the proper place it wants to be on. 

When Keith sees it, he thinks he could almost come from the sight of it.

Almost.

What Keith sees is a bump appear in his lower stomach when Shiro’s cock pushes into him with every thrust, watching it poke out of his stomach for a moment before retreating. His attention is so focused on it, his arousal igniting, leaving his body to burn completely within the heat it sparks within his body.

“You see that, Keith? See how my cock fucks you? I know you do,” Shiro’s voice is low, it has growl-like quality to it. He doesn’t quite let forth a stream of constant talk, but he chimes in every so often, reminding Keith of just how much smaller he is than Shiro, pointing out how good he is at taking his cock, how e was made for this, and that Shiro is so lucky to have found Keith.

Keith is getting close again, his orgasm setting up in his body, trying to make a reappearance from being severed just minutes ago. He wants to reach for himself, he wants to stroke himself to completion, but he’s not sure if Shiro would allow that.

His choice is given to him when Shiro stops and pulls out completely. 

Keith’s orgasm that was building sharply falls and almost winds him.

The lilac-eyed man is getting a little frustrated at being denied his orgasm.

“Don’t worry, baby,” and Shiro gives him a kiss to his neck, “I’m just changing positions.”

Shiro has Keith move over, and Keith trying to function on shaky limbs is a challenge of its own, but Shiro is able to help him maneuver to the side just enough for him to lie down on the bed. He’s propped up with pillows, and motions for Keith to come to him. He has Keith straddle him, knees on either side of Shiro, his hands on Shiro’s chest keeping him upright. 

Shiro reaches over to grab at the lube, pouring more of it into his hand. Shiro has been using an excessive amount of lube for this, and Keith, his mind not under the haze an influence of an impending orgasm and ecstasy trying to claim his cognitive devices, thinks that maybe Shiro should be a little more conservative in his approach.

It’s mostly the part of his mind that wants to feel what Shiro has done to his body for days afterward.

The bottle is now half-full, which doesn’t make any sense but Shiro wants Keith to be well lubed up for him. 

Shiro strokes himself but also allows his fingers to slide down Keith’s lower back, slipping his fingers against the top of his ass and following the crease of it down until he reaches Keith’s hole. He rubs the lube there for a moment, spreading it all around and mixing it with the earlier lube used. Keith pushes back against those fingers, trying to convince Shiro to do something more, but he only smiles and removes his fingers. 

A hand lands on Keith’s hip and pushes against it, trying to coax Keith into moving. Keith looks over his shoulder and down to see what Shiro wants him to do. 

“Get on your knees,” is a little rough from Shiro’s throat, and it leaves him a little confused. Doesn’t Shiro want him to ride his cock? Isn’t that the point of this position? Shiro must sense the confusion, and he says, “I know what you’re thinking, but trust me.”

So far, Shiro hasn’t given him any reason to doubt what he’s saying.

Keith does so, hesitating and a little unsure. Shiro moves his legs, positioning them so that his knees are bent and his feet are resting flat on the bed. Keith lets out a small moan when he feels Shiro’s dick brush against his, sliding between his cheeks, rutting against it, all the while he maintains eye contact with Keith. Keith tries to rock back, trying to encourage Shiro to fuck him, but he doesn’t know where the boundary is, what Shiro is okay with him doing, and the thought of making the larger man disappointed is enough to keep Keith’s impulses in check.

Shiro seems to take pity on Keith, or at least has lost interest in dangling his own release in front of himself, and Shiro shifts, and though Keith can’t see it, he knows that Shiro has gotten a hand on himself. Keith scoots back a little, trying to help Shiro angle himself, and feels the head of Shiro’s cock push against his entrance. Each time that happens, Keith can’t help but feel exhilaration from it, his anticipation building quickly and steadily at the mere thought of Shiro pushing into him. 

Shiro doesn’t waste time and pushes up into Keith as he moves back to help Shiro, seating himself fully into the smaller man again.

Keith’s never going to be over how full it makes him.

Keith can’t help but look down and at his stomach, unconsciously clenching around Shiro in response to seeing Shiro’s dick bulging out from his stomach, feeling Shiro shift in response. His hips stutter up and Keith watches the movement it causes the other man’s cock to make, pushing out a little more, moving underneath his skin, and brushing against his prostate that Keith can feel his cock harden further. He sees pre-cum beading at the tip now. He’s starting to drip all over himself again.

He has the urge to touch himself again, wanting that completion, but for now, he exercises his control and keeps his hands on Shiro’s chest.

Ash eyes connect with violet ones, holding their stare for a moment before Shiro shifts up, his hips thrusting up into Keith. The dark-haired man’s head falls forward, chin almost resting on his chest, nails digging into Shiro’s chest. Shiro moves his hips again, his feet shift in a probable effort to position himself better and both hands grip onto Keith’s hips. He doesn’t give Keith any time to think about this position any further when Shiro’s hands pull Keith down onto his cock as he thrusts his hips up.

So, that’s why Shiro was trying to get a good position and have Keith on his knees.

Shiro absolutely controls Keith’s body and movements, he dominates the position, and shows off just a small amount of his strength as he renders any movement Keith does as obsolete. 

Keith ends up leaning more onto his hands, placing more of his weight on his knees, as he just lets Shiro fuck him any way he wishes.

“Look at you,” Shiro says, his voice a little strained but low and roughened, “look how well you take me, how good you want to be for me.” Shiro increases the speed of his thrusts as he pulls Keith back down on his dick, “I would think that you were made for _this_ ,” Shiro tightens his grip on Keith’s waist, thrusting up and holding himself fully inside Keith. Keith tenses up, one hand moving off the larger man’s chest, reaching out to grip at the headboard of the bed. 

“Such a pretty boy, created just for my dick,” Shiro coos, his voice becoming impossibly low. Keith’s head hangs are he keeps gripping at the headboard but Shiro keeps looking at him, unwilling to look away. Keith’s body acts for him and before he knows it, both hands are grasping at the headboard, fingers curling around it, head continuing to hang between them. 

Shiro begins thrusting once again, his hips raising off the bed to meet with Keith’s body that he pulls down with his grip. The slap of skin becomes loud, pronounced in the room where no other sound dares to interrupt them.

The angle to see Shiro’s cock protruding from his stomach isn’t correct, so Keith has no chance of seeing it, but his attention does focus in other areas. Namely, it’s the visual of Shiro’s hands nearly spanning the entire circumference of Keith’s hips. Shiro’s thumbs nearly touch.

Shiro is starting to become frantic, his movements are starting to edge into a desperate territory, and Keith can feel Shiro’s movements become shaky. His brow is starting to pinch, a furrow between them, and his jaw is tensing, as well as the seat starting to eat at Shiro’s forehead that tells of the exertion that he’s putting into making sure he can fuck Keith’s brains out. He’s doing less talking, a result of starting to get caught in the moment. 

Keith is close, he can feel it coiling in his stomach again, ready to take his body by storm, and the way Shiro is almost frantically thrusting up into him tells that he’s not very far behind. It’s impressive, knowing that Shiro has held off his own orgasm to in order to wring out as many as he can get from Keith, no thought spared to his own needs as he’s so much more concerned with making sure Keith is taken care of.

His entire train of thought derails so fast and quickly as the world suddenly rushes up to his ears, blurring into a mass of color and shaking, coming to a halt when Keith finds himself pressed into the bedding, his back colliding with it and bouncing a little. He sees Shiro over him, his face concentrated, and realizes that Shiro has flipped the positions.

Instead of Keith gripping at the headboard, Shiro has now replaced Keith’s own hands, gripping onto the headboard and proceeding to plow into Keith. The headboard gives him leverage to hold onto as he pours all of his efforts into fucking Keith into the bed.

The long-haired man arches, hands reaching up toward the pillows to grasp at them, his eyes falling shut as he lets himself fall into the pure feeling of pleasure that Shiro pours into his body. The angle is perfect, brushing against that sweet spot, pushing in as deep as Shiro’s dick can get. Shiro’s grunts mingle with Keith’s own moans, hitching as they grow closer to the end.

“Don’t touch yourself,” is an order from Shiro, sharp and commanding. “Be good for Daddy and come only on my cock.”

It’s more than likely to happen as Keith’s orgasm is drawing up fast, his dick leaking steadily onto his stomach, flushed with blood and arousal that Keith thinks if he even got a hand on himself, he’d come almost immediately after. He was curious to see if he could come untouched, if Shiro could fuck him that well to make it happen. He’s no doubting Shiro’s efforts or his prowess in the bedroom, he was just simply unsure if it could happen. He’s always used his hand to push himself toward the rest of the way, using it to bring about his climax faster, but Keith is actually sure that he can come without being touched.

The headboard is steadily knocking against the wall, the sound becoming louder as Shiro puts all of his energy in trying to make Keith come with only just his cock. Keith can only try to hold on through it as best as he can and try not to drown in the sensations flooding his body.

Shiro seems to reach another level of intensity, his hips slamming against Keith’s ass, his hands falling away from the headboard to grip at his waist, now pulling Keith down into his thrusts. Keith would think Shiro was at the point where he’s just using the other man’s body for his own pleasure if he were any other guy, but Shiro is watching him, his attention completely focused on Keith, not wanting to miss one moment of Keith’s pleasure manifesting into the real world.

“That’s it, Keith, show me, I want to see you come,” Shiro directs at him, “I want to see—” he grunts, a roughened moan slipping from his throat, “—my good boy come. Come for Daddy, so me how much you like my cock.”

Something close to a wail falls from Keith’s mouth, Shiro’s thrusts laying waste to his senses outside of his touch. Shiro is currently hitting his prostate with lethal kind of accuracy, one that will be his undoing very soon. His chest is heaving, his lungs are burning for more air, there’s sweat trailing down his hairline and onto the bed, his body is a series of sensations that are steadily drowning any awareness Keith may possess outside of them.

The smaller man can feel it, starting at the bottom of his stomach, condensing and growing heavier with each passing moment, threatening to unfurl and surge outward from its position. Keith can hardly pay attention to the way his back grinds into the bed, being pushed further into it as Shiro roughly fucks him into it. It balls up underneath him, bunches in places that Keith is pressed against, and beginning to stick to him as sweat collects on them. 

It takes a few more thrusts for that pressure to finally snap.

Keith wails, actually wails, when he comes.

It’s an all-consuming void that births into existence within Keith’s mind, covering everything within the space, and consumes everything that is there. Keith can’t breathe, he can’t see, he can’t feel anything outside of the roar of his orgasm, surging through him and rendering him utterly useless. Keith doesn’t know what kind of sounds he’s making but he can’t do anything to stop them and they’re free to come and go as they please. 

Keith crashlands back to Earth, his awareness coming back as the waves of his orgasm finally begin to die down, leaving him with aftershocks that still shake him. His body is still trembling, trying to work its way through the feeling, but eventually beginning to surface and seeing the world again. 

His body is utterly useless; his limbs are newborn calf weak, unable to support him if he wanted to get up and move around.

Shiro has stopped moving, hunched over him and breathing raggedly, his eyes closed, mouth agape. Keith takes the moment to blearily gaze at Shiro’s form, taking in the details of the sweat curling down his face, the way his veins are protruding in his arms, the way his hair is even messier than he remembers.

Little details pass through Keith’s mind in a disjointed sense, none of them really tying together or trying to come together to create a full picture. His mind is still trying to process everything around him after his orgasm had swept away any and all thought from him. 

It takes a moment but Shiro finally eases up on the grip he has on the smaller male’s hips, placing them on the bed, hovering outside of Keith’s body, taking a moment to gather himself and the breath his body is so desperately craving. Keith watches with a kind of detached feeling, his mind not registering things beyond a superficial point.

One intense orgasm (well, three if he wants to keep count) later and his mind cannot figure out how to function.

Keith continues to lay there as his mind is coming down, his body trying to figure out how to function, as Shiro moves over him, letting his head hang and collect himself. The room stays silent, save for the loud panting either of them do, but neither makes any effort to fill the void of it with anything else. 

Shiro finally looks up and in the haze of post-orgasmic bliss, Keith’s mind succumbs to the beautiful features of Shiro’s face. His eyes trace over Shiro’s face, taking in the cut of his jaw, the high cheekbones, that Hollywood worthy smile with straight, pearly-white teeth—Shiro is such a handsome man that Keith can’t believe that he got so lucky to have him.

Apparently, orgasm makes Keith fall into honeyed reminiscence.

Shiro’s head raises, looking a Keith, eyes searching for something Keith doesn’t have a name for, and leans forward to kiss him, lowering on his arms and pushing against his mouth. It’s not some intense and passion-filled kiss that is meant to steal their breath, but this sweet, slow kiss that warms Keith’s chest. Shiro lowers until he’s raised on one elbow and using the other to cradle Keith’s head as his hand cards through Keith’s sweaty hair, sifting through the strand and burying his fingers there. The smaller man doesn’t know if he can get aroused again, having come three times already, but he has doubts of Shiro being able to pull another orgasm out of him, but he wouldn’t be opposed to Shiro trying.

Shiro pulls back but he doesn’t move, opting to stay there for a moment and Keith enjoys Shiro’s presence. He likes the feeling of being surrounded by Shiro’s body, the sheer size of him enough to completely cover him. There’s a comfort to it, like Shiro’s body is the safest place for him to be, and the feeling of it only serve to push a level of affection that Keith isn’t quite used to. It settles into his chest, behind his ribs, and hooks into him so deeply that Keith can’t hope to ever resist it. 

Shiro pulls back, hovering over Keith’s body, and he gives a gentle, “I’m going to move now.” Keith grimaces at Shiro moving, oversensitivity sparking along his nerves, as well as the discomfort of being stretched again as Shiro slides out of him. He shudders a little, trying to clamp down on a whine that’s trying to spill from his throat but can’t disguise his features from letting Shiro know what he’s trying to do.

“It’s okay, baby, you did good for me,” Shiro tells him, lifting a hand to stroke at the outside of Keith’s thigh, petting him with a soft ease that serves to soothe along his nerves. “I’m proud of you, sweetheart.”

Keith sighs and lets himself fall into the larger man’s words, taking comfort in them while his defenses are down and have a chance to reorient themselves.

Shiro slides completely out, and the accompanying feeling of cum and lube starts follows almost immediately. Keith would grimace at the thought of it getting onto the sheets because these are probably expensive sheets when he remembers that there is no cost for dry cleaning the sheets. The entire room screams expensive taste and Keith could never hope to achieve even a fraction of the amount this room costs, not with those student loans watching him and waiting to siphon his money.

Shiro sits back, his eyes not leaving from between Keith’s legs, likely watching the slow drip of lube and cum from Keith. It takes a moment for him to look away, but when he does, he finds Keith’s face. He leans forward and brings a hand up to gently touch Keith’s face, fingers pushing into Keith’s hair and thumb settling along Keith’s cheek. It lingers there for a little, thumb stroking the skin, before he says, “I’m going to clean us up, so don’t worry about it.” 

“Do we have to?” In all honesty, Keith doesn’t want to move, comfortable in his post-orgasm haze and body well satisfied. The thought of moving doesn’t settle well within his mind

Shiro laughs and shakes his head. “Trust me, you’ll thank me later when you’re not sleeping in the wet spot and feeling crusty.”

“Mm, doubt it.”

Shiro laughs again before pulling away and Keith wants to protest Shiro moving away from him, but his body still feels too heavy to try to coax Shiro back into bed and settle down with him on this bed—it’s amazingly comfortable now that Keith has the opportunity to experience it without sex being at the forefront of his mind. The mattress is soft, obviously with memory foam, and Keith sinks into it in such a perfect way that Keith can’t even be mad for long periods of time. He’d absolutely love to have one of these in his apartment and make it less shitty with its quality.

Keith can actually appreciate the room now that he isn’t focused on getting fucked and in all honesty, it’s a really nice room, a room that costs so much money.

Shiro moves from the bed, standing and stretching his limbs of which Keith looks at shamelessly, taking in the flex of the older man’s muscles, the way his arms bend, and hearing the pop of joints in the quiet room. Shiro sighs and looks at Keith, eyeing him on the bed.

“I’m going to get a rag; I’ll be right back.”

Shiro turns on his heels and disappears into their very large bathroom that Keith, now that he takes it in, is going to love the shower. It also has a separate bathtub that is huge and more than likely will be able to fit both him and Shiro at the same time with much room to spare. He has a feeling Shiro’s going to want to take him apart in both the shower and bathtub.

The brief sound of the sink enters the room before being silenced, and Shiro emerges from the bathroom, rag in hand, and makes his way back to the bed. He applies the rag to Keith’s stomach, wiping away the cum that was beginning to dry. The smaller man hadn’t thought of cleaning it off as his mind was too occupied with wanting to stay in the deep feeling of satisfaction than think about anything else, and though he’s not too fond of the tacky feeling of dried cum, he appreciates Shiro taking the initiative.

“It’s okay to not want to move after, coming down from an intense session can leave anyone not in the mood to do anything after. The drop from such a high intensity moment can be overwhelming for people,” Shiro says, moving the warm rag along Keith’s stomach. “I want to make sure you’re okay and not coming down too hard.”

Shiro throws the rag somewhere behind him on the floor and gets up from the bed. He moves around the room, the biracial man’s eyes following him lazily, and watches as Shiro approaches a minifridge, which Keith hadn’t noticed, and pulls out a water bottle. He returns to the bed, opening it and lifting it to Keith’s mouth. 

Keith takes a drink, realizing just how thirsty he was.

Shiro caps it and puts it on one of the nightstands beside the bed. 

Shiro then moves onto the bed, pushing Keith over enough, Keith protesting with grumpy sounds, as Shiro maneuvers him just enough to be able to pull the sheets out from under him, letting him rest on the second set below him. Shiro sets them to the side in a balled-up heap, returning his attention to Keith. He moves into Keith’s space, getting his hands underneath Keith’s arms and pulling him up the bed, positioning him to where he’s laying against Shiro’s chest.

It’s a really nice chest.

Shiro pulls the blankets up and covers both of them with it, settling in and wrapping his arms around Keith. The biracial man settles into the comfort of Shiro’s body, enjoying the closeness and heat that Shiro provides.

Keith won’t admit it but he is a cuddler. He likes the closeness, the comfort of it, the gentleness after such a high intensity activity enough to soothe his nerves and calm his body down. He doesn’t care if he’s big spoon or little spoon, either position still brings comfort to him.

Shiro settles them both, Keith being no help as his brain is still fried and even the smallest of movements can’t be processed by his mind. It doesn’t seem to bother Shiro, who has had enjoyment from moving Keith around. Keith has his head pressed against Shiro’s chest, can hear his heartbeat still somewhat elevated, as well as listening to every breath Shiro takes. 

It’s nice, he thinks, to have this.

A hand finds its way into Keith’s hair, worrying at the strands, sifting through them until they’re wrapped around thick fingers. It’s a soothing motion, one that further relaxes Keith, almost convincing him to doze off but fights through the urge to do so. 

“How was it for you?” 

Keith is broken from his serene calm, head tilting up to look at Shiro, his eyes connecting with Shiro’s own steel colored ones. His brows furrow at what Shiro is asking.

“Don’t give me that look,” is gentle from the larger male. “I like knowing that who I’m with was satisfied. It’s not a bad thing to check on someone and see how they’re doing.”

It takes some effort for Keith to gather the words and get his tongue to mold his words, but he finally allows, “I—” and he has to stop for a moment because there’s heat that’s trying to make its way onto his face as memories of their fucking are trying to resurface, and a possible hint of interest trying to stir within his spent body, but he swallows it down and gets through it, “I liked it. It was… it was good.”

Shiro smiles, looking away from Keith to allow his head to lean back against the pillows. “I’m glad.”

Keith looks away, bringing one of his arms up to rest across Shiro’s chest, letting himself sink into the content feeling. There’s sleep trying to build behind his eyes, trying to take advantage of his mind’s lowered defenses, and combined with Shiro’s insistent stroking of his hair, it creates a lethal combination that Keith doesn’t think he can stop. 

Besides, they have this room for a couple of days, and perhaps it really was worth the amount of money Shiro paid to have it. Keith has learned that Shiro likes to treat him, likes to spend money on him if Keith doesn’t protest it, and even when he does, he just smiles and does it anyways.

His eyelids grow heavy, falling further into the serene calm his body is in, and becomes more unable to figure out how to resist the temptation of it.

He figures there’s no harm in falling asleep, and maybe it’s something Shiro wants with how he’s gentle fiddling with Keith’s hair, his breath evening out into a slower cadence. Perhaps Shiro wants to fall asleep with him.

Keith could get used to this and how nice it feels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for making it through this fic, I had a lot of fun despite my schedule being less hectic but still sucking. 
> 
> You can come hang out on twitter if you want, [here](https://twitter.com/omegakeith) or on tumblr, which I'ma be real, I barely go there anymore but I still check up on stuff there, which is [here](https://bottomnoctis.tumblr.com/)


End file.
